


Triquetra

by FaerieChild



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Slash, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2019-09-26 13:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 72,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaerieChild/pseuds/FaerieChild
Summary: A M/M and M/M/F Outlander slash and threesome fanfiction started for NaNoWriMo. A modern AU set in the world of thoroughbred horse racing. After the passing of her husband Frank Randall, newly widowed Claire Beauchamp decides to spend her late husband's money on a thoroughbred racehorse and starts looking for a trainer. Meanwhile thoroughbred horse trainer Jamie Fraser feels increasingly drawn to friend and horse owner John Grey.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually do dedications, but this story is dedicated to friend and fellow writer Futurelounging without whom this story would never have happened and who has held my hand and cheered me on and beta-ed and been a sounding board all through the process of writing this fic. Thank you.

**Prologue**

 

It was early. Not yet dawn. At half past five in the morning hoar frost still clung to the fresh green grass of the Newmarket downs. The sky was clear, the stars were shining and Jamie’s breath hung in the air as, through the darkness the graceful white curve of the railing of the training track gleamed in the moonlight. In the distance, invisible through the darkness, a quiet rumbling rolled closer accompanied by the steady, rhythmic pant of breath after breath like an exhaling steam train. The evocative sound of thoroughbred hooves on chalk down crescendoed to a thunder as the outlines emerged into Jamie’s weak sight. Grooms perched in racing pose: stirrups high, back levels, helmets steady as the riders eyes locked forwards.

Pant, pant, pant. 

Lungs like pistons, legs galloping, thundering through the night they swept down the hill and round the curve with Lord John’s best mare, Lady of Lallybroch at the head. Cold crisp air nipped at Jamie’s nose, the steam from the effort rising off the creatures backs towards the dawn as two dozen of the world’s best thoroughbreds charged at full tilt round the bend and swept away into the trees. 

That morning, as with every morning, Jamie allowed himself a moment for the sight and sound to take his breath away, his whole being focused on the fading sound of the horses as they galloped away on their morning workout.

“Well?”

Jamie glanced at the man next to him. Smartly dressed. Kind eyes. He had no reason to be here at half past five in the morning. Most owners wouldn’t be. But then, John wasn’t most owners.

“Is she ready?”

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser looked at the stopwatch in his hand and noted the quarter mile splits.

“Last race of the season,” Lord John continued.

Jamie stared at the splits and then exhaled heavily and shook his head. “Hell of a time to make a come back but...aye, John. I’d say that she’s ready.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

  


The town of Newmarket in Suffolk had, for many hundreds of years, been the centre of the Thoroughbred horse industry in Britain. The town and the countryside around it had a pedigree going back generations. Green expanses of grass, chalk down and extant stands of native trees spread out across the rolling English countryside. The town itself was home to no less than fifty training stables, an equine hospital, the National Stud, as well as museum and heritage centre on the grounds of a former 17th century royal palace and what was quite possibly the most esteemed equine auction house anywhere in the world - Tattersalls. For miles around there were stud farms and stables, equine businesses and vets and field upon field of pasture blanketing the chalk down of the Newmarket ridge with timber fencing and hedgerows separating out paddock from paddock and shelter belts to break up the open landscape. It had a high street, and a railway station. Pubs and small businesses. But the beating heart of Newmarket was its race courses which had come in various incarnations over the four hundred year history of horse racing in the town and currently comprised the Rowley Mile and the July Course.

Located just to the west of the town itself, thoroughbred horses had been racing at the Newmarket courses in England for as long as thoroughbred horses had existed. The first recorded race had been in 1622 and for the four hundred years since Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies, the wealthy, the important, and the business elite had descended regularly to watch the best horses of their generation battle it out on the turf. The town also attracted those of humbler birth with the passion for the sport in their blood along with hundreds of grooms, staff and other attendants who worked in various aspects of the industry. But people came and went and more than the many people who had frequented the town down the years had been the thousands upon thousands of horses who called it home.

In the present day, even Her Majesty the Queen was known to regularly come to town to see her horses training.

Newmarket was the axle around which the spokes of the thoroughbred industry turned and as she approached the race courses for the final meet of the season, Claire Beauchamp Randall knew that she had come to the right place to learn about The Sport of Kings.

For as far as one could see people descended. The car park filled up, coaches unloaded their passengers. Crowds swelled and gravitated towards the large compound dominated by the huge stands overlooking there course. There were stables, a betting area, the winner’s enclosure and beyond it as far as the eye could see stretched grass and a sprawling mass of white railing.

As the autumn moved into winter the mornings had got colder and frostier and with this final race meeting set at the beginning of November there were cashmere overcoats and finely stitched leather gloves amongst the outer wear of the large, well dressed crowds who descended on the Newmarket race courses.

In fact, the dress code was even more complicated that Claire had expected. The Premier Enclosure was most particular. Jeans, trainers and shorts were all banned. Formal wear and formal shoes were encouraged. Shirts must be collared and there wasn’t a man on the grounds without a tie. Many men went the full hog and wore morning suits and top hats. It was the sort of place where a three piece lounge suit was considered dressing down; where women wore dresses, heels and hats; where hair was coiffed and make up was perfect and even the soles of people shoes sounded expensive as they tap-tap-tapped their way across the tarmac paths of the race course grounds. In the stands the dress code was more relaxed, a marked distinction in class between the owners and trainers and the regular public attending.

Newly widowed, Claire had recently decided to revert to her own name of Beauchamp and had further decided, now that she was on her own, to try something new. Claire was on her own because she had no surviving family and had long since stopped bothering with friends. It was just easier that way. The delicate enquiries about her wellbeing. The queries about the state of the marriage. The pitiful looks of concern. The question that came up again and again after marrying Frank...

Why didn’t she leave?

It was an easy questions to ask if you were sitting safely in your cosy, safe relationship surrounded by your friends and family. Frank had been the last link to Uncle Lamb, her last surviving family member and the man who had raised her. He had vowed to her Uncle to take care of her and somehow Claire had found herself clinging onto that while Frank berated her and criticised her, the gentle thousand cuts of sneering and disdain that marked their marriage day by day. It hadn’t been like that in the beginning. And somehow it didn’t seem so big, it didn’t seem so serious. It wasn’t like he hit her. He just didn’t like some of her clothes. Or her habits. Or her likes and dislikes. He didn’t like her friends, or what she did for work. And what husband – or any person – couldn’t be cold from time to time. Or distant. Or have opinions about their loved ones habits, and company and life. And if sometimes it seemed like nothing she had done – and nothing about Claire – could seem to please him then Claire would try all the harder and remind herself that she loved him.

Now that Frank was gone and his unexpected death had left his entire estate settled on her – an estate much more sizeable than Claire had ever realised her husband had in his possession – Claire had thought of ways in which to use her newfound wealth. The sensation of being alone in the world, without friends or family, was found to be a lot more enjoyable when you didn’t need to worry about your next paycheck. In fact there was something down right liberating about waving blank cheques around. She had donated to some charities, the sort of thing that she would like and that Frank would sneer at. Like helping people. But it was the urge to do something entirely frivolous and wholly for herself that had her coming down to the final race meeting of the Newmarket season.

Claire’s ticket was the most expensive the course had on offer. Her VIP Experience ticket came with an executive box, a four course meal, champagne, access to the Premier Enclosure, afternoon tea and an all-important car parking voucher.

Really, Claire Beauchamp knew next to nothing about horses. A few hungry donkeys had wandered the archaeological sites of her youth but these circles of wealth and fashion and the racing stars of the horse world were entirely new to her. With her best foot forwards, in the new dress that had cost her close to a thousand pounds, the designer shoes she had indulged in, the head piece that made her feel somewhat regal, Claire smiled politely at the attendant who saw her ticket and quickly called someone over to escort her to her box. She was promptly offered champagne and as she sipped Claire took a moment to note the difference between the hired morning suits some men wore in the VIP areas and the tailored Savile Row ones of the wealthy owners.

Claire wasn’t an owner herself. Not yet. But even with so little knowledge of the industry Claire knew there was no better way to make your mark with money than to spend it on horses and in Britain the entire world of thoroughbred horses and their training and racing revolved around this one single town: Newmarket.

Claire Beauchamp was here with a purse and a plan. Why? One might ask.

Frank absolutely hated horses.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the first chapter has been awesome. Thank you all. There are a couple of things worth mentioning now. Firstly, updates will be on Tuesdays and Fridays. Chapters will be a little shorter than is typical for me but they will hopefully be more frequent. Secondly, the intention with this story has always been to post it as members-only. I wanted to give people an opportunity to see the first couple of chapters and see if it is something they might be interested in, however from Tuesday onwards (after the New Year) this story's reader setting will be changed to members-only. This means that you will need to be signed in as a member of Ao3 to access it, read it and comment on it. You can request an invite from Ao3 and long-term members have also been given spare invites in response to Tumblr's prohibition on adult content. Setting stories to members-only always upsets a few people but I am doing to look out for my own interests and I hope you can respect that.

**Chapter 2**

Clasping her bag, Claire perused the race card she had been provided that laid out the runners and riders and the times of each race. There was information about each of the athletes. Who owned them, who trained them, and their recent form in previous races.

Even someone who had never been to a race track in their life knew that betting was the mainstay of any meeting and Claire took her time, reading up on each of the horses before deciding where to place her bets. From time to time she paused and looked around the VIP area, trying to put names to faces. There was a famous football manager. A notable aristocrat. A Sheikh. A politician. The place was full of subtle signs that clearly made up a language that only those in the know could decipher the meaning of. Badges on lapels. Public school ties. Little tags looped through a button hole with fine string.

Even the bookmakers had a sign language of their own, communicating to each other through the noise of the crowd.

The weather might be chilly, but Claire had splashed out for the finest, most elegant overcoat and heels she could find and she felt absolutely fabulous. People turned and stared and for almost the first time in her adult life Claire felt absolutely no need to apologise to anyone. No need to apologise to Frank for other men looking. No need to apologise for wearing a dress he didn’t like or for showing her legs. Claire held her head up high, and smiled. She took a sip of champagne and startled briefly as someone nearby turned on a radio to listen to the pre-meeting hype.

“ _...and of course the talk of the town is that Lord John Grey and his trainer, James Mackenzie Fraser have submitted Lady of Lallybroch to race today. If she does indeed race – and we understand if there are continued concerns about her health she could be pulled at any time – but if she does race it will be the most remarkable of come backs after_ _a bout of illness_ _at the start of the season that everyone thought had_ _probably_ _ended her career. Lord John has been quick to praise the equine veterinar_ _ian_ _expert_ _i_ _se_ _at_ _Newmarket_ _Equine Hospital_ _but you can almost feel a buzz about the ground now as everyone waits to hear whether the Great Lady herself will take to the track.”_

Later, over lunch in her executive box, Claire noted the trainer’s name as she looked over the racecard once more. She picked some horse names she liked and chose others on form and then Claire took a wander down to the betting enclose to put her money down the old fashioned way, squeezing through the crowd surrounding the small upright blackboards with scrawled names and betting odds that were dusted out and changed as money was put down and the favourites chopped and changed. She wandered the premier enclosure and exchanged polite smiles with that class of people who all seemed to know each other and all seemed to wonder who she was. Claire stood and watched as horses were brought in and walked around before the first race and listened as people of various degrees of horse education opined on legs and carriage and movement and form, stride length and canon bones and dams and sires.

Upstairs on the fourth floor the private box that came with her VIP ticket was exclusive, if a little lonely. The meal had been delicious, of course, sitting on her own at an elegant modern dining table looking out over the rest of the grounds. Yet there was something rather morose about sitting all on your own surrounded by thousands of people. Claire took her drink and wandered outside to her private balcony. She whiled away the afternoon eating excellent food, admiring the exquisite clothing in the crowd and soaking in the elegance of it all. You could smell so much money it almost made you nauseous. Many of those attending today had more additional zero’s to the their wealth than Claire could ever hope to claim but Claire had never been one to let such a thing put her off when she set her mind to something.

They started off with the races for the younger horses. Two year olds in their first season with fillies and geldings – and many colts as well – fighting it out over several six furlong races. It was hard to believe from looking at the athletes that the animals were only two years old. By the middle of the afternoon the age of the horses had increased, first to the three year olds and then the older fillies and colts, mares, stallions and geldings. As the age of the horses increased so had the length of the races, with middle and long distance races of up to two miles.

The best was saved for last, a stakes race over one mile with horses aged three and over. It was a distance that was essentially a sprint race, with the most elite field of mature horses and a few well-bred younger ones willing to try their luck. While some races were split into male and female horses, this one was mixed and in spite of everyone having been in doubts all day about whether the famous Lady of Lallybroch would indeed turn up at the start line, down in the enclosure Claire saw the four year filly old line up with the other horses under many appreciative stares. A good head, one muttered. A nice deep chest, complimented another. Her carriage, her formation, her sharp eyes all got nods of approval which seemed to please a handsome gentleman nearby with dark hair and kind eyes. He was accompanied by a tall, red-haired man who had something in his manner that spoke of a particular familiarity with horses. A certainty in the way he moved around them. A confidence. The red head caught Claire’s eye and she found herself staring at his arresting features, only turning away when the man looked her way himself, having felt Claire's eyes on him.

No, Claire liked Lady, she decided. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she did like the horse. Something in the eye, perhaps. It was the lingering doubt as to her fitness that had the pundits worried. Back on the balcony of her fourth floor private executive box, Claire Beauchamp got her binoculars out and quickly found the racing silks pictured in the racecard as the horses lined up at the start some distance away. Lady of Lallybroch was the only filly in a field of colts and geldings and she had been injured. Many, it seemed, doubted both her fitness and the wisdom of racing a horse at the end of a season instead of waiting until next year or – more likely for a female horse of four years old – send her off to a top class stallion to be covered.

It was a close race from the start. The competitors bunched together in a tight pack. Pairs of horses in similar silks clung together with Lady of Lallybroch sitting third or forth back until the final furlongs when the jockey made a slight motion with his wrist and with an extraordinary turn of speed Lady sailed four lengths clear of the field to the roars of the crowd.

Claire reached into her bag to retrieve a pen and circled the trainer’s name.

James Mackenzie Fraser.

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

**Chapter 3**

Afterwards there was plenty of work to be done for a trainer like Jamie Fraser. The care of the horses came first, ensuring they were fed and warm and safe in their stables. Lady of Lallybroch got some extra treats and every time Jamie or John looked at her she seemed to be grinning, walking on tiptoes proud of herself. Jamie could only smile and pat her neck and mutter her quiet compliments in Gaelic. There were congratulations to receive from other trainers, interviews with the media and the general oversight of the stables to be seen to. Unlike Jamie who hated talking to the press, Lady’s owner John Grey seemed to take to the whole business of PR like a duck to water. The cameras loved him. He spoke with an erudite air and a twist of humour that interviewers ate up and he was generous and courteous to a fault.

Finally at the end of a long day when the interviews were over John invited Jamie back to his place for a dram and a game of chess only for Jamie to turn it down in favour of checking on the stables one last time before bed. When Jamie turned up at the training ground at the tail end of the last of the horse carriers, Murtagh Mackenzie, Jamie’s somewhat gruff stable manager assured Jamie that everything was dealt with however and sent him straight back home again. There weren’t many people who could tell Jamie what to do in his own business, but Murtagh had been looking out for him since childhood and Jamie respected him too much to argue.

Home was quiet. A little too quiet. After the fuss of the day it was a big adjustment and only a few minutes after arriving Jamie went out once again and drove over to John’s place. John met him with a happy twinkle in his eyes and an invitation to join him for dinner.

“You know I’m hopeless at cooking for one.”

“Alright then,” Jamie agreed. John was probably the closest thing that Jamie had to a best friend after all. At least one who wasn’t related. He could relax here. His own home was a nice house, it was a pleasant place to be but it was very much a place he stayed because of his work, that was near his work. Every corner was filled with paperwork and books and accounts and training regimes and records. DVD’s of races to watch over again, equipment and prizes and the accoutrements of his career as a trainer. It was a far cry from the family home he yearned for in Scotland, but he had chosen this life – or it had chosen him – and he had to bide the ills that came with it.

At John’s house however, Jamie could relax in a way he just couldn’t in his own house. John had been a career public servant. Military and then civil service. He came from a well-to-do family, had attended all the right schools and then Sandringham after that. John’s home was not a glorified office he could sleep in, it was a comforting and cosy Georgian brick built house with warm lamp lighting, soft sofas and a small wood burning stove. The place was perpetually – somewhat obsessively – neat and tidy. A relic, John insisted, of his army days. In the kitchen John’s cooking smelled obscenely good and to Jamie’s great relief the work they did together as owner and trainer never got in the way of their friendship. On the contrary John had a very sensible and pragmatic head on his shoulders and the kindest heart of anyone Jamie had ever met.

Jamie could admit that the first time he met John and learned John was attracted to him, Jamie had felt slightly apprehensive. It wasn’t politically correct to say so in the current day and age but Jamie had had rather a sheltered upbringing, educated under the law known as Section 28 he had only vague notions of what homosexuality was from the odd newspaper report of sexual abuse on boys. Jamie had agreed to train his horses, but had put a careful distance between them whenever John got too close. Now, looking back on the arse he had been at that time, Jamie wondered how John had put up with him. It had taken a lot of patience on John’s part to ease Jamie into realising that abusing children and grown men liking each other were two entirely different things. Gradually over long months of regular encounters in Newmarket, Jamie had learned that there was nothing to fear and tentatively, a couple of years ago, Jamie had begun to ask questions that John used to gently educate Jamie and put his mind at ease. Over time their friendship had deepened and Jamie found himself missing the man whenever he wasn’t around. More often than not they ended up eating together. John regularly turned up at the Fraser Stables’ morning workouts, even if they had stayed up late the night before and to Jamie’s great relief he was always very respectful of Jamie’s touchiness about physical contact.

Jamie knew that John wondered about that. Jamie preferred not to talk about it.But here, as John invited him in and closed the door Jamie felt safe in the strength of their friendship. Jamie hung up his coat on the familiar hooks by the door and kicked off his shoes. The building was historic and not all that efficient but John had the under floor heating on and Jamie’s feet tingled as the cold seeped out of them at the cosy warmth underneath. The drapes were thick and multi-layered for added warmth and gave the whole place an elegance that completely escaped Jamie or any of his failed attempts at home decorating. Off the small hallway there was a cupboard under the stairs that served as a downstairs toilet, John’s office and then another door that led off to the rarely-used dining room and a grand staircase leading up to multiple bedrooms.

Jamie however went straight into what had become his favourite room in the house. A modest sized kitchen opened up over a breakfast bar into the spacious and well-appointed living room. There were two large comfortable sofas, large enough for even a man of Jamie’s stature to recline on and between them a Georgian coffee table with an antique chess set. They were lined up to be parallel with the fireplace in which stood a wood burning stove that was already crackling away. If you wanted to watch television in John’s house, you had to go up to the small box room upstairs or into his office. John insisted he spent so much time staring at screen that he made a point of not having one in the room he used to relax. There was, however, a bookcase with a varied selection of poetry, plays, reference books and novels. There was a discreet but expensive music system and a sideboard on top of which stood an impressive selection of whiskies.

“Will you settle for a game later?” John enquired mildly as he walked past the breakfast bar, back to the cooker. Jamie stood in the living area with his drink while John cooked and drank wine and chatted amiably. They exchanged details of their day and when he got hungry Jamie came over to volunteer to test whether the food was edible. Jamie’s boyish hopefulness had John smiling. He liked Jamie best when he was like this. Handsome in a fresh sweater without the usual oxford shirt underneath that formed part of his unofficial uniform as a trainer.

“So, what can my beautiful Lady expect for her training regime in the coming weeks?”

“A lot of hotwalking and swimming if she’s staying in racing training. She’s still only eighty-five percent fit. Of course, at her age a lot of owners would be sending her down the road to Juddemont or somesuch to get covered.”

“I’m not sending her off to be a broodmare just yet,” John shook her head. “She’s got the rest of her life to pop out sprogs. Let her have another year, I say.”

“There’ll be a lot of talk, John,” Jamie said quietly.

“You don’t honestly think I had you go to all the trouble of spending months getting her race fit again after her illness to send her off to stud the moment you succeeded. I would hope I’m a better friend than that, Jamie.”

Jamie smiled wryly and took the jab that was aimed at him, “Aye, John.” Jamie had explained to John once that in the Gaelic-speaking part of the highlands where Jamie had grown up it was the custom that business was done through friends and relations, with those you knew and trusted. For reasons Jamie had never been able to fathom, Lord John Grey had taken this notion rather to heart and liked to remind Jamie, from time to time, of the importance of their friendship.

No, that was a lie. Jamie knew exactly why it was that John pressed the matter. But it was something that Jamie in all honesty preferred not to think about.

“It’s a risk as well. You could increase her breeding value on the one hand but if she doesn’t keep up her form people will think you’ve made the wrong decision.”

“People will always think you’ve made the wrong decision, Jamie. Whatever you do. Not getting married. Not having kids. I am happy where I am.” John’s eyes lingered on Jamie’s features for a moment too long and he almost seemed to blush in the low light as he looked away and began to offer Jamie seconds.

 


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments and support. I have researched to the best of my ability but as always I feel like I'm doing this on a bit of a wing and a prayer so if any genuinely horsey people notice any horrifying bloopers please feel free to flag them up. Happy reading!

**Chapter 4**

After dinner they retired to the sofas with a bottle of whisky to sip a dram or three while Jamie beat John’s Queen’s Gambit yet again. Two hours in John tipped his king over in defeat and yawned.

“Aye, its getting late. I’d best be getting home, I suppose.”

“Oh no you don’t, not on four glasses. Your room’s all made up.”

“The spare room, ye mean?”

“The spare room that has all your things in it and that only you use, is made up,” John agreed, taking Jamie’s glass out of his hand. “Can I tempt you to a cup of tea before bed?”

Jamie dragged himself up off the sofa. Having been waited on hand and foot by John for the entire evening, Jamie decided he could stretch to making them each a cuppa as John loaded the last empty glasses into the dishwasher and turned it on for the night.

Jamie boiled the kettle and John disappeared to check the windows and doors were all locked. Jamie picked out their two favourite mugs from the cupboard and dropped a teabag in each as John went around the living room putting out lamps. Jamie handed a tea cup to John and together they made their way up the stairs.

“I left the book you were reading on the night stand for you,” John informed him.

Jamie found his room and put down the tea beside the book while John hovered at the door. “I see that. Thank you, John.”

John stood there, transfixed. It was at moments like this, late at night, when they were all alone when from time to time a tiny glimmer of hope flared in his heart that John allowed to flicker for only a moment as he stared at Jamie’s handsome face before forcing the thought to be violently suppressed. At length John nodded curtly and began to walk away.

“John,” Jamie walked closer.

John stopped and turned back around, politely staying on the landing where he knew Jamie would be most comfortable with him. Jamie’s friendship meant more to John than he would ever have the words to express and if it meant needing a little extra patience with Jamie because of his ways, John could live with that. Right now, however, Jamie was making him nervous standing there starting at him. Jamie cleared his throat. He looked off to one corner as if about to say something and then seemed to change his mind and instead engulfed John in an unexpected bear hung that took John by surprise and he grunted at the strength of Jamie’s grip.

The hug stretched out as John hugged back, expecting Jamie to let go after the standard length of three or four seconds but Jamie didn’t let go. His arms relaxed and he sighed and pulled John a bit closer.

“Jamie?” John asked carefully.

Jamie let out a long slow sigh and finally let go. “I just needed a hug.”

John wished for all the world that there was an easier way to do this, but he had known for a long time that this endlessly wandering heart of his had found its north star and there was really nothing to be done for it. John knew he would always put Jamie’s wishes first and, John suspected, Jamie knew that as well. At first it was hard to have Jamie so close and yet so far from where John dreamed of them being, but then he thought of how long he had waited for Jamie to be physically comfortable in his presence and small grin appeared on his face. “I am available for hugs at any time,” John promised.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Jamie joked.

John noted he was standing rather close. Too close. The sort of closeness that men like Jamie tended to avoid around other men they knew to be gay. “Thank you, John. For trusting me.”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Not every owner would give the best part of a season to bring a horse back from an injury like that. Another owner might have just put her down. Or sent her off to stud. But a horse like that deserves to race and I just want you to know that I’m grateful to ye, for giving her a shot.”

“Well we can’t keep her racing forever and lord knows any foals she does have will be worth a lot of money but...” John took a step back. “Is that what this is? Gratitude?”

“John...”

“Don’t Jamie!” Rage flared in John. “Don’t you dare suggest what I think you’re suggesting. Good God, Jamie, what do you take me for?!”

Anger and then hurt flashed in Jamie’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“No. You didn’t.” John turned around to head for his own room in the worst of tempers but he was stopped by a hand on his chest that blocked his way and then wrapped itself around him. “Get off me!”

But Jamie didn’t get off John. Jamie pulled John’s body into a tight grip and John continued to resist. “Maybe I’m not doing it for you,” Jamie whispered and John’s body stilled. He tried to look up at Jamie, pushing him away enough to look into his eyes.

“Jamie?”

Jamie for his part looked intensely uncomfortable and after the briefest of glances looked away and then down. “I don’t know, John…”

With the utmost care, John gently pulled Jamie back towards him. One hand cupped John’s head. Jamie’s arm curved around John’s slim waist and pulled their hips together. Red heat flared to John’s face at the knowledge that Jamie’s close proximity was making him hard.

“...and I don’t care,” Jamie’s voice cracked.

Another heartbreak. Another torture. Another exquisite moment with Jamie Fraser. But John had chosen this. His centre of gravity was a tall read-haired Scot and if Jamie needed a slightly homosexual hug then John vowed he would just have to stand there and bear it. Erection and all.

 

Approximately three weeks after Clarie’s trip to the Newmarket races, she returned to the town for the next stage in her plan. It was the beginning of advent, November turning into December and she had learned a lot about thoroughbred in the intervening time. Not the least of which was that all thoroughbreds apparently had something in common with the Monarch, which seemed fitting for The Sport of Kings.

Thoroughbreds had two birthdays.

Thoroughbred foals, regardless of when they were born, had an official birthday of 1st January and then an unofficial foaling date recorded by the place they were born. This year’s cohort had been foaled the year before and officially turned one in January to become Yearlings. Some yearlings were sold in the spring and summer, but for those looking to invest in racing horses the November sale provided the prime opportunity to purchase an animal that could go straight into racing as a two year old as soon it was broken and trained. The sale occurred in the form of an auction and it took place, of course, at the home of the most prestigious equine auction house in the world.

Naturally, Claire was back in Newmarket.

She had taken care to fill out the requisite New Buyer paperwork for the auction house and spoken to both her lawyer and her banker. There was a budget. Frank’s money was considerable but even Claire had her budget. There would be many foals well out of her price range but Claire had done her homework and had taken time in the intervening weeks to learn the importance of blood lines and performance statistics and felt confident about doing this herself.

It wasn’t the only reading she had to do however. Even the auction catalogue was an intimidating size. Forty five pages of introductory reading opened the catalogue covering everything from purchasers guides to payment rules, anti-doping to codes of practice. All of the promotional material contained a discreet date stamp establishing the auction house’s Georgian credentials and the place itself was, as expected, like something out of a Jane Austen novel. There were manicured green lawns and gravelled paths and a complex of stables and offices extending out from a brick-built octagonal building that housed the ring where the animals were shown.

Just as at the Newmarket racecourses, it seemed a lot of the buyers knew each other. Claire realised more than a few were professionals, not the actual buyers themselves but stable managers, agents or other assistants who had been delegated the task of buying. Even as wealthy as she was now, Claire wondered at those so very far above her in such terms who wouldn’t even be personally attending the purchase of an animal worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.

The auction itself took place in a ring that was dusted with sand. One by one the yearling horses were brought out and paraded around the ring. Everything was military-clean and exact and everything right down to the language of the lot descriptions was strictly regulated. Bidding took place in the form of Guineas with the minimum sale price starting at one thousand. Claire thanked her banker for having warned her about the use of a currency that had largely gone out of use two centuries ago, but after a bit of research Claire discovered that a guinea in today’s money was simply one pound and five pence, with the five pence being the commission that went to the auction house.

There had been offers of assistance of course, from all sorts of professional men with an interest in racing expressing concern at Claire’s plan to go off to an auction and make up her own mind and spend her own money on her own animals. Claire was unperturbed. She admired the extremely expensive colts sired by great stallions that were well out of her price range. She tried her hand at a couple of promising horses she liked but was quickly outbid. Claire patiently eyed up her next and probably final chance at success this time around. A horse with a slightly different pedigree to many of the more expensive colts. There were fewer of the stallions in his bloodline that seemed to promise showy and highly commercial sprint horses. But his mother was a name that Claire recognised from her research as coming from the Nijinsky II line which was a name even Claire knew. He had a nice head and, importantly to Claire, intelligent eyes.

Claire put in her bids and to her delight when she reached the top of her budget the hammer fell and the young colt was hers. If other people in the auction house gave her some funny looks and muttered quietly between themselves Claire was too proud of her plan working out to bother with their mischief.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small footnote - from what I understand, in some countries like Australia it is more common for owners to buy their own horses in person whereas in the UK it is more likely for a bloodstock agent to be engaged. However, I felt that for Claire's characterisation and for this story that she would make the purchase herself.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Jamie and John had fallen into a routine. Lady was continuing her regime to build her up to full fitness, while tailoring her regime to let her rest as much as possible over the winter. John spent the weekdays in London for work and the occasional weekend at his family’s ancient home or his brother Hal’s house. But he lived for the time he got to spend with Jamie, coming to Newmarket whenever he was free and inviting Jamie round for dinner. When John wasn’t in town Jamie spent his evenings pouring over paperwork and race footage and finances before an early night in order to be up at four o’clock the next morning for the horses.

When John was in town Jamie would inevitably find him waiting at five o’clock in the yard, ready to watch the horses on their early morning workout. Or if he arrived in town on a Friday night having made his way up to Suffolk from London after work, Jamie would receive a phonecall or a text telling him that dinner was ready.

Jamie liked John’s cooking and he liked John’s company. Lately however he had been a bit perturbed to find himself missing John when he was away and looking forward to a hug when John got back. He found himself thinking of John’s smile, of his warm eyes, of the way John teased him in ways which no one else could possibly hope to get away with. Jamie had never really had much time for intimate relationships. Running a thoroughbred training stables didn’t leave much time for a private life and most of the time Jamie was fine with that. He had never really minded not having a sex life and found it a little odd when other people started to go on about it. In some ways he was fortunate to be able to hide behind the prudish stiff upper lip of the British upper class that dominated the town. Not having been to the English public schools so many here had, Jamie could only smile politely and claim ignorance when any of the homoerotic truth-or-dare shenanigans of all boys schools came up after too much alcohol at a bar.

Jamie knew too that his sister worried for him. As much as he loved Jenny and her husband Ian, Jamie found it rather a relief to be based at the other end of the country from them. His sister’s one or two attempts to set him up with local women on his trips home, not to mention the way the siblings fought like cats and dogs anytime they gotten within a few feet of each other, meant that it was generally better for their relationship if they didn’t live too close together. They knew each other too well.

Jamie could acknowledge he had not grown up surrounded by the sort of open minded people John often gathered around him at London parties. Sometimes his friend would allude to a night on the town in Soho or a party in Vauxhall and Jamie would feign interest for John’s sake. Parties weren’t really Jamie’s scene. The thought sometimes of the companionship a relationship might offer was tantilising, but it was hard to put yourself out there when your life revolved around four o’clock starts, horses and a very great interest in reading.

Tonight something seemed to have put John in a particularly good mood and Jamie pottered around the kitchen putting salad together as John laid the table for them and contemplated the pros and cons of getting a cat.

“You spend half your time here and half in London, John. Its not the most practical.”

“I could get a cat carrier.”

“They let you have pets in London now, do they?”

“Actually, they’re becoming a lot more acceptable now. The old buildings and the endemic vermin problem mean more and more government departments are thinking about it. Number 10 has a cat, and the Treasury, and the Foreign Office.”

Jamie hummed, more in acknowledgement of listening than any sort of actual agreement. Stable cats were common enough here, as long as there wasn’t an issue with transmittable diseases. “Ye weren’t at the yearling auction today then?”

“No. I think I have enough on my plate to be getting on with. Although from what I’ve heard there were some lovely colts and fillies that look quite promising.”

“And a couple of howlers, I expect. There always are. Folks might go on about bloodlines but we all know it doesn’t begin and end there.”

“Well the honest truth is you have a lot of expertise that owners might not have. Some of them do know a lot about horses but we all know others are in it for other reasons. Not that there’s anything wrong with that...” John tailed off.

“...But I’ll be the one who has to train them when they come knocking, ye mean,” Jamie laughed and grabbed the bottle of wine John had been airing. They ate their dinner, talking idly about the stables and what had happened this week and the industry chat about which mares were going to which stallions and afterwards they sat on the sofa together, Jamie leaning against John’s chest while reading a book. Sitting at one end with Jamie pillowed against him, John looked at the unused chessboard on the coffee table and smiled as one hand played idly in the russet red curls of Jamie’s hair. When he’d been spending time out of doors in the summer sunshine invariably a few strands of strawberry blonde began to appear in it. In the winter as the nights drew in his hair got darker and more coppery. It was something John thought he would never tire of.

“Jamie?”

“Mmm...”

It was a sound that John meant knew Jamie had acknowledged him but his mind was elsewhere. Right now, it was on the book he was reading. The Illiad.

“You do know that when the Victorian translations say Achilles and Patroclus were cousins, they didn’t really mean that they were cousins don’t you?”

“Tell me later,” Jamie muttered.

John knew he wouldn’t need to. Knowing Jamie as he did, it would probably pop up in his mind some time tomorrow morning when he was sitting in his office over at the stables and Jamie would start researching. When something niggled at Jamie’s mind he wouldn’t rest until he had the answer. From his end John desperately wanted to know if Jamie’s new found search for a human pillow was just an added facet of the man he only showed to those he trusted most or if it was something more. John had long suspected that Jamie’s internalised homophobia was part of something deeper, something Jamie seemed unwilling to face up to or discuss and while Jamie had many many work colleagues and acquaintances, while Jamie was respected in the town and the world of horse racing, John had realised that there were very few who knew him well. And even with some of them, Jamie clearly kept some parts of himself hidden. Murtagh Mackenzie, the quiet disgruntled right hand man Jamie worked with at the stables was loyal to a fault and rarely spoke more than three words together about anything, never mind his boss. Jamie’s sister and all his family lived in the north of Scotland and most of the time when he was in Newmarket, Jamie seemed to prefer the company of the horses he trained to other humans in the town.

After dinner, after reading, after the lights were put out and the heating turned down John decided to take a chance. Jamie had been unusually quiet that evening, and unusually physical. It was different being with Jamie to other relationships John had had in the past. While in London John wasn’t shy about putting himself out on grindr and meeting up for casual sex. Yet he was just as likely to spend time with gay couples he knew, who all had a forthright and pragmatic approach to a health sex life. Arguments didn’t get in the way of orgasms, sexual health services were free on the National Health Service and the recent introduction of PrEP had been talk of the town. Out here with Jamie, his friend’s repressed approach sometimes had John worried, but John had promised himself he would take this at whatever pace Jamie was comfortable with. Even if Jamie wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge a ‘this’.

Standing on the landing outside their bedrooms, Jamie didn’t move in for a hug. He stood watching John, unwilling to say goodnight, somewhat lost for words. John didn’t say goodnight either, he simply watched Jamie watch him and smiled and with that smile John could see the tension release from Jamie’s shoulders and a soft sigh escape his lips. “There’s nothing to be scared about,” John said quietly.

“I don’t want sex,” Jamie blurted out and then his face turned near beetroot and he began to stutter. “That is...I mean...”

John’s eyes softened with compassion. What a life Jamie must have led, so unable to express himself even in private. He reached out and gently laid a hand on Jamie’s forearm. “Come to bed, Jamie,” John whispered and then without waiting for an answer he turned around and walked into his bedroom leaving the door open.

 


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!

**Chapter 6**

John went about his evening routine, listening to the sound of Jamie’s breathing as he stood out in the hallway. It was several minutes before Jamie appeared in the doorway, watching John turn down the bed and hang his trousers so the creases stayed neat. There was a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt folded on John’s side of the bed.

Jamie didn’t have pyjamas here right now and so stripped down to his black boxer briefs and his white cotton vest that showed off his pecks and biceps. How Jamie found the time to work out while running a training stables was incomprehensible to John but he couldn’t deny the man looked very good right about now. Quietly willing his growing erection away, John again wondered just how he had found himself in this situation. It wasn’t uncommon as a gay man to fall for someone who was straight. Jamie, John knew, was not straight. He just didn’t know what he actually was and John suspected Jamie didn’t either. His life revolving around horses had absolved the man from having to pursue the questions other people usually pursued in their youth. Now in his mid-thirties, Jamie seemed to have lived half his adult life without ever thinking about it.

John watched Jamie hesitate on the other side of the bed. “John,” Jamie began seriously, “I know that we’re friends but I need to know I can trust ye no’ tae try anything I might be uncomfortable with.”

John’s heart squeezed at the sheer vulnerability in Jamie’s face right now. Although he normally slept with the door closed, he had left the door open for Jamie so the man didn’t feel trapped. “I promise I shall keep my hands on my side of the bed unless asked.”

Jamie cleared his throat, still hesitating. “Only, if there was something ye wanted I would let ye, if ye explained it to me.”

“ _Let me,_ ” John repeated. His eyebrows rising. “I think you and I have very different notions of what a consensual relationship means, Jamie, which is apparently something we need to talk about at some point but not, I think, tonight.” John shook his head and then climbed into bed and pulled the covers over his legs. “As flattered as I am by your romantic proposal, lets call it a rain cheque, shall we?”

John switched his bedside light off and shuffled down under the covers. It was several long seconds before Jamie climbed into bed but instead of settling down he left his light on and read for a while. After twenty minutes he closed the book, put it on the bedside table and turned his own light off. On his side of the bed John lay on his back, biting back a grin at the way the mattress moved as Jamie settled down. To John’s surprise Jamie settled on his side, facing John and then one hand came up and touched the stubble on John’s chin paused thoughtfully on a lock of hair that fell across John's brow.

“Why do ye put up with me?” Jamie asked quietly.

“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest notion,” John replied, but his eyes were warm and smiling. He had waited a long time for Jamie to be this comfortable with him and if this was all Jamie would ever want, John would take it and spend the rest of his life masturbating in the bathroom.

“I ken I’m a screwed up bastard.”

“Life has a tendency to do that to you sometimes,” John said, with great compassion and then he caught Jamie’s hand, feeling the callouses on the palms and brought it to his lips kissing the centre of his palm and then his knuckles. “Can I ask you a question, Jamie.”

“Aye.”

John had noticed Jamie got more broad in his speech and mannerisms when he was tired or emotional and he found it rather endearing. He had no idea what this question would do to Jamie, though. It was a sensitive question, especially given the way things were between them right now.

John cleared his throat. “You said you didn’t want sex and I respect that and its not a deal breaker – no don’t interrupt or I won’t get to the end of this. Like I say its not a deal breaker but I was just wondering if that’s because you’re still learning to be comfortable with the idea of intimacy with a man or whether that was a general across the board thing?"

“What do you mean?”

“Do you just not want sex with me because this is new or do you as a general rule not want sex with anyone?”

Jamie stared at him in the darkness. When he replied his voice was caught, and scared. “What are ye asking, John?”

“I think I’m asking if you might be asexual.”

Jamie’s breathing was loud and slightly panicked in the darkness of the room.

John propped himself up on one elbow and half turned to Jamie. “Don’t panic, its not a loaded question. And you don’t need to answer right now.” John watched Jamie’s lost eyes and realised Jamie didn’t even seem to know what he meant. Good god the education in this country had something to answer for. He did his best attempt at a reassuring smile and softened his voice. “You’ve always acted like a part of you is terrified at being forced to do something you don’t want to do, and I always thought it was learned homophobia that you would unlearn in time and you have, to a point. But after what you said in the hallway I can’t help but wonder if it might be something more than that. You see there are some people who don’t really experience sexual attraction at all. Whether or not they choose to have sex tends to be for other reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Well they might choose to have sex only when there’s an existing deeply emotional bond. They might have sex to please a partner, or for the sake of the relationship even though they’re neutral to it. Or they might be rather repulsed by sex and prefer not to partake in it at all. Its not really my area as such but from what I gather there’s a bit of a spectrum.”

Jamie’s breathing was still shallow and somewhat panicked, but it was settling down. “And that’s a thing?”

“Apparently.”

“And its normal?” Jamie pressed.

“As normal as being gay is, I suppose.” John rested his hands behind his head. “Jamie can I tell you something?”

“Aye.”

“I tell everyone I’m gay, but I’m not really gay. I’m really bisexual.”

“I've heard that word, but I'll confess I never really understood what it meant."

John suppressed the frustration that welled within him. Having grown up under Section 28, Jamie's education on matters non-heterosexual was clearly considerably lacking. “It means I like men and women. Well, lets be honest, I pretty much like everything in between as well...but a lot of people don’t understand so its easier just to say that I’m gay.”

Under the covers, Jamie’s hand reached out and squeezed John’s. “I hadnae realised there was a word for it,” Jamie whispered into the darkness. “I thought that maybe I was broken. But you didnae seem tae mind.”

Inches away, John’s heart broke for his friend, for the man that he loved. Tears welled in his eyes that he blinked rapidly away and then Jamie’s arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. John turned onto his side and Jamie pressed into his back, spooning against him and holding him tight. “Is this alright, John?”

A cathartic bark of laughter erupted from John’s chest at the question. “We’re quite the pair aren’t we? Yes of course its alright.”

Behind him, Jamie snorted and joined in the laughter and they fell asleep wrapped together in the warmth of John’s bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist!  
>   
> 'Section 28' refers to Section 28 of the Local Government Act 1988 (http://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1988/9/section/28/enacted) which was repealed in Scotland in 2000 and the rest of the UK in 2003. It read as follows:  
>   
>  _"28 Prohibition on promoting homosexuality by teaching or by publishing material_  
>  _(1)The following section shall be inserted after section 2 of the [1986 c. 10.] Local Government Act 1986 (prohibition of political publicity)—_  
>  _2A Prohibition on promoting homosexuality by teaching or by publishing material_  
>  _(1)A local authority shall not—_  
>  _(a)intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality;_  
>  _(b)promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship."_  
>   
>  The section effectively meant a complete prohibition of any discussion of LGBTQIA+ identity, issues, education, resources, health, sex ed, support, etc. in large sections of the publicly-funded sphere in the UK including schools and public libraries. Most GenX-ers and older Millennials grew up under it to some degree. Even after its repeal the effects of the ban lingered on for many years and continue to have a legacy to this day.  
>   
> UK Legislation is under Crown Copyright and available under the Open Government Licence v3.0.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its time to see what Claire is up to.

**Chapter 7**

Having bought her horse, Claire forced a smie onto her face as the attendant at the auction house reminded her that she needed to pick up the horse within twenty-four hours in accordance with the auction house guidelines. She completed the paperwork, signing in all the right places and made the payment of the agreed price. Before she left Claire accepted the invitation to go and see her new purchase and she stood at the gate of its stall as the young colt stared back at her from inside. He was a dark bay with black legs and quite handsome.

Claire owned a horse.

For the first time it really was beginning to hit home and Claire realised she had launched herself into this without thinking about what she would actually do with the animal between purchasing it and securing the services of the trainer. Thinking through her extremely short list of existing friends and acquaintances, she set aside the thought of phoning any of her professional advisors – her accountant, her lawyer, her banker – for advice. Friends were in rather short supply too, since cutting most of her friends off as a result of Frank’s behaviour, Claire hadn’t really reconstructed any significant sort of support network and going further back, even before she had dropped out of University to marry Frank there had only really been Geillis and Joe.

Joe!

Her best friend at university, who had tried repeatedly to get in touch after Claire dropped out of University at Frank’s insistence. Who had cautioned her to think carefully, who had asked her with concern if if this was what she really wanted. Joe whose girlfriend had become one of the few female friends Claire had ever really had. They had still invited Claire to their wedding even after several years of hearing nothing from her.

There had been nothing Joe liked more than telling a story and while they were sitting in lectures waiting for a lecturer to turn up or when they were sitting together down the pub later Joe would regale them with boyhood tales of hanging out with his father at work at the horses stables where his father was a groom.

It was a drive back to London, and Claire still had a hotel booked in Newmarket, but she headed straight down the road and spent the next few hours rifling through drawers for the ‘New Address’ card Joe and Gayle had sent after they married.

Joe had chosen to come over from the United States to study. Joe explained that in the UK system you could just go straight into studying medicine whereas in the US system you had to do an undergraduate general degree first, and then do a post-graduate in medicine. He would probably be some high flying surgeon by now. Her hands shook as she found the card and the kind note inside, reminding her of their friendship. That she should call any time.

Claire’s hands shook as she picked up the old landline phone Frank had kept and endured the time-consuming process of the old fashioned rotary dialling system.

An hour later, Claire found herself being invited into a stunning townhouse in one of London’s smartest districts. It was Georgian originally, with most of the original features intact. Fine wrought-iron railings complimented the mahogany banister of the stairs. Black and white tiles on the floor looked to be as old as the house itself with a tasteful collection of antique rugs and furniture complimented by Gayle’s collection of modern art. Something of a personal passion project for her, Claire remembered.

Joe and Gayle welcomed her with hugs and brought her right through the living room to the large airy kitchen at the back. It was painted white, with a high ceiling and traditional british fittings. A belfast sink, an aga cooker. Thick oak worktops. Copper pans on the walls.

“So, Lady Jane, when’s the divorce due?” Joe joked. Gayle cast him a disapproving look.

“Claire...”

“No, it’s fine, Gayle. Frank passed away a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe muttered.

“No you’re not, but I forgive you. You’re right, he wasn’t the best husband but he’s dead now and we can’t change the past so I’ve decided to move on and live my best future.”

“Good for you,” Gayle smiled. “And what does this future involve. Going back to university?”

Claire stopped. It hadn’t even occurred to her to do that. “That’s a thought.”

“You hadn’t considered it?” Gayle pressed.

“Not really, no.”

They were interrupted by a child of about eight, standing in pyjamas in the kitchen doorway. Unlike Joe and Gayle the kid had an English accent as they asked who the visitor was. Claire thought she picked up the distinctive vowels of the English private school accent. “This is my friend Claire. You can see her again another day, right now its past your bedtime,” Joe insisted, leaving them to do his fatherly duty and escort his child back upstairs to bed.

“Well you know that Joe and I place great importance on education but whatever you choose to do, you might find its nice to have something that’s all your own. Joe and I live in each other’s pockets but I think I’d lose my mind if we didn’t have separate interests we pursue on our own. Frank never allowed you that.”

“Actually,” Claire hugged the mug of tea Gayle had made her, “There is something that I did for myself. Its sort of why I’m here actually.”

“Oh?”

“Upon his death Frank’s estate turned out to be much larger than anyone knew. I certainly had no idea. He had money stashed away all over the place and for probably all the wrong reasons I decided to do something with the money. Rather petty of me, I suppose, but something that I knew that Frank would hate.”

“Which was...” Gayle pressed anxiously. Claire could see Gayle worrying about something illegal. Something that had got her into trouble.

“I bought a race horse.”

Gayle stared at Claire for a long moment and then opened her mouth. “JOE! GET DOWN HERE! CLAIRE BOUGHT A RACEHORSE!”

“Aren’t the kids sleeping?”

“I can absolutely guarantee that with a guest in the house at this time of night the kids are definitely not sleeping,” Gayle said with a wry, twisted smile. “Have you eaten? No? Great, you’re staying for dinner.”

Joe and Gayle’s kids had already eaten and been put to bed. The adults ate later, after bedtime, and that evening was one of the best Claire could remember in a long time. It was so long since she had spent a easy going evening in the company of friends that Claire had forgotten how it felt to float on a cloud of happiness and joy as you told stories and laughed together over beautiful home cooked food. The love you could feel in the house stirred long-forgotten memories of how a family home should feel and Claire wondered for the first time how she had endured all those cold years of a lonely house and a semi-hostile husband.

“Its really nothing to freak out over, LJ. As long as you’re willing to pay.” Joe explained as he looked at a picture of the beautiful dark bay yearling colt on Claire’s phone. “You need what’s called full livery and one that will accept colts. Horse livery is a service stables provide meaning they look after other peoples horses. Some stables just house them and the owners come daily to feed them, work them out, do all the actual taking care of the horses. Door number door two is the option of paying for some services but the owners still doing some things themselves. Full livery is, ‘everything taken care of’. You visit when you want and you don’t have to do any actual work. That’s what your cheque book is for.”

“You’re right,” Claire agreed. “That is exactly what I need. The question is how do I find one that’s suitable.”

“Fortunately for you, horse folks get up early and I'm on a late shift tomorrow. I have to head into work about noon but I can give a you hand in the morning. I reckon our best bet is just to look places up and do a ring round. Ask who has space, explain you can pay up front.”

“You don’t think they’ll be snobbish about someone who knows nothing owning a racehorse?” Claire mused.

Gayle snorted. “I think they ought to be too damn busy running their livery business to worry about people paying them to do their job right!”

Claire smiled at Gayle’s directness. She had missed their friendship so much.

 


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you for all the wonderful support for this story. In this chapter we stick with Claire as she continues to make her way in the horse world.

Joe and Gayle made up the guest room and Claire laughed over breakfast as the kids flocked around her while Gayle tried to get them to eat something through the excitement and herded them out for school a short while later in their smart uniforms and blazers. With the kids gone, Joe and Claire sat in the kitchen and looked up livery stables near Newmarket. There was, not surprisingly, quite an array to choose from but whether any of them would have room at such short notice remained to be seen. They made a shortlist of businesses Claire liked the look of and then Claire let Joe do the talking because Joe was the one who knew all the right questions to ask and how to answer the stables’ horse-related questions in return. Fortunately at a place like Newmarket the close-knit nature of the industry meant everyone understood the basic level of training that a thoroughbred yearling could expect to have and Joe’s experience made the job of finding a place to stay that bit easier. Eventually they found a place Claire liked that had Joe’s approval. They seemed trustworthy and professional with good standards and the up front deposit had secured the deal. They agreed to meet Claire at the auction house with a horsebox to transport the colt for an additional fee.

Claire said goodbye to Joe and Gayle not with sadness but with a lightness of heart. Even as they said their goodbyes in the hallway the three of them were laughing, reminiscing about old times and making plans to see each other again. Claire had remained deliberately vague about her plans, she had no idea whether any of this would work out or not but it was an exciting adventure to try.

The London traffic was notoriously awful and it wasn’t easy getting out of town on a work day with traffic jams and road blockages turning up all over the place, but eventually Claire found herself past the M25 ring road and heading out towards Newmarket once more. She spent half the journey berating herself in her head. How could she do something so thoughtless as buy a horse without arranging somewhere for it to go? What sort of idiot did that? She was ten minutes from her destination when Claire realised she was doing Frank’s job for him. Yes it wasn’t the smartest thing but no harm had come to the horse and with Joe and Gayle’s help it had all been sorted. She was putting him in the hands of responsible people who knew how to care for him and it was perfectly clear from the stables and properties around Newmarket that horses around here had nothing but the best.

Arriving at the auction house, Claire noted as she parked that the horse box for the stables she had hired was already there, the back door open and an attendant from the auction was standing chatting nearby.

“How can you forget to book a stables?”

“I have no idea, mate. But it wouldn’t be the first time, let me tell you. I mean, you wouldn’t believe what people leave around here as lost property.”

“Sometimes I think outsiders and owners don’t realise we all know each other in this industry.”

The voices tailed off as Claire approached but she didn’t miss a glance between them. It wouldn’t be the first time Claire had done something without thinking it through either, but she had spent so many years beating herself up in her head or Frank doing it for her that she was going to nip it in the bud and hold her head up high. Channelling the sort of decorum of Margot on The Good Life, Claire affected a superior air and greeted each of them as they introduced themselves. Claire was curt but polite with the auction house staff member who showed her to an office in order to confirm the paperwork and payment arranged the day before. With everything in order the yearling colt she had purchased was brought out and loaded onto the horse box. She shook hands with the auction house staff who left her in the capable hands of the stable she had chosen.

“You might gather I haven’t spent much time around horses,” Claire spoke to the groom, a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties. She wore jodhpurs and riding boots and a waterproof sports jacket with the stable’s logo on it.

“Some owners haven’t,” The groom replied. “Its quite alright, Madam. Everyone in the stables knows what they’re doing.”

“He’s very well behaved for such a young animal,” Claire mused.

“Well its early days but he's been good so far. Colts and stallions are more unpredictable than geldings but good handling makes all the difference.” The groom spoke as she secured the horse inside and began the process of closing the separators and the back of the box for the journey ahead.

“Do they always wear a bridle?”

“That’s a halter, Madam,” the groom corrected, but with a kindness in her tone. “A bridle has a bit in it, for riding. A halter is just a head collar. Thoroughbreds are halter trained from a young age, it makes them easier to handle when they’re getting moved around the yard.”

“Of course,” Claire nodded and forced a terse smile onto her face. “Would it be alright if I followed you to the stables? I’d like to see it before I leave.”

“That would be fine, Mrs Beauchamp.”

“Its Ms Beauchamp, actually.”

“My apologies, Madam.”

“Its not a problem. Thank you for coming here at such short notice. It seems I rather put the cart before the horse yesterday, metaphorically speaking.”

The groom was courteous to a fault, professional and efficient. The horse was loaded for the short journey to the stables. When she got there Claire was impressed at the size of the outfit. It was clean and spoke of money. Miles of green and wooden fencing surrounded a well-maintained stable yard. It was clean and bright, the paint was fresh and there wasn’t a weed in sight. Everywhere people were busy: mucking out a stable here; sweeping the yard there. As the horse box came into the yard a woman in a generously sized wax jacket came over to meet them and introduced herself as the stable manager, Mrs Baird. With the brusque efficiency of someone who did a physical job every day, Mrs Baird saw that the yearling was housed and fed with the other male horses, there was fresh straw on the ground and the colt was happy to have his head rubbed in greeting as his needs were seen to.

“He has a nice head on him, bright eyes, a good temperament. You’ve made a nice purchase, Ms Beauchamp.”

“Claire, please,” Claire insisted. She liked this woman immediately. “I find myself wondering now if I’ve done the right thing. I really don’t know very much about horses.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for,” Mrs Baird reassured her. “We’ll look after his every need while he’s here and we’ll answer any questions you have if you do want to learn.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your directness.”

“You’ll find, Claire, that horses like honesty, and trust. People who work around them tend to be direct and up front. Its for our safety and theirs. It gets things done quicker and the horses are less likely to kick off. You need be gentle but firm and say what you mean.”

Claire nodded.

“Have you decided what to do with him yet?”

“I think I’m going to try and find him a trainer, initially.” The colt, having thus far spent his time standing at his hay net eating, stuck his head out of his stall. Looking around Claire could see they had an audience - many of the horses had their heads stuck over their stable doors into the yard keen to see what was going on.

“Well if that doesn’t work out,” Mrs Baird said kindly, “I think he’ll make a lovely horse for riding.”

 

‘A lovely horse for riding.’ The words echoed in Claire’s head as she made her way back to her hotel. That hadn’t been her plant at all, but something in the way Mrs Baird had said it niggled at Claire’s mind. Back in her hotel room Claire went to her room to freshen up and then ordered room service. She told herself to stop being so silly. Being in the city again had messed with her head. Frank had always preferred towns but Claire found the countryside liberating. In the city everything felt claustrophobic, too close, too busy and noisy. Out here her mind could be free. In the city she became almost neurotic, constantly questioning herself and her judgement, bombarded at all sides by too many other options and opinions to make up her own mind. Here, to Claire’s great surprise, she found she could relax in a way that the constant over-stimulation of the city didn’t allow. Her mind calmed, her body relaxed.

Even the meals tasted better. Instead of whatever superfood salad trend was going around the latest modern eateries in the city, the food out here was hearty and wholesome. Steak and ale pie with mashed potatoes and seasonal greens was exactly what her stomach needed. It was accompanied by a half pint of local Suffolk cloudy cider and afterwards Claire walked it off with a long walk through the town, admiring the old streets and buildings and taking in the country lanes with the trees and quiet birdsong. A rabbit stopped and watched her and then ran away to its burrow. A robin followed her, hoping for worms. The fresh air filled her lungs and Claire took in a deep breath and smelled the dampness of the earth and the wet winter leaves. Her eyes took in the sight of field upon field of grazing horses, relaxed and at ease.

Yes, Claire decided, she could get to like this place very much.

 


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Jamie-centric chapter where we learning a little bit more about his business.

**Chapter 9**

To Jamie’s great irritation on this particular morning, he was deprived of the company of his horses. Instead of spending his day as he would wish in the stable yard, or his office, or even the tack room, Jamie had spent the morning ensconced in his accountant’s office going over that quarter’s receipts and bills, incomings and outgoings. Feed, tack, wages. Winnings. Payments from owners.

Ulysses was systematic and thorough. Every receipt, every bill was accounted for. He was the best damn bookkeeper that Jamie could hope for and it made his head hurt that he had to try and keep up with the man. His mood wasn’t helped by the fact that John had gone back to London and he missed his friend. If that was the word.

Ulysses was the consummate professional and at the end the session they looked at the summary.

“Well the stables is ticking over. You’re not making a fortune but you’re keeping your head above water. You’re a modestly sized stable competing against some pretty big and commercial enterprises.”

“Aye, there is that.” Jamie sighed. They were fine for now. That was what mattered. They had been affected by the economic downturn, which had led to a lot of upper-middle-class people and work syndicates who had dabbled in thoroughbred horse ownership not being able to afford to pay the bills anymore. The country was full of stories of abandoned horses, horses being put down or sold on. Bills not paid and stables lying empty. Jamie had been lucky. Lord John’s friendship had kept Jamie’s reputation and his business afloat and kept enough interest in Jamie’s outfit from other owners to keep things going. Jamie began to gather his things as Ulysses finalised the last of the paperwork.

“Jamie?”

Jamie looked up “Aye?”

Ulysses smiled a warm smile and put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Its good to see you happy.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “With the greatest of respect, Uncle, my private life is my own business.”

“I know,” Ulysses nodded and let the hand drop. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Don’t tell Auntie.”

“Alright,” Ulysses agreed. “Am I going to get a dinner invitation any time soon?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep ye posted, Aye?”

Ulysses chuckled and shook his head as his nephew left his office. It was about time Jamie found someone to make him happy.

 

With John away in London, Jamie got down to the business of work. Early starts. Feeding. Workouts. Swimming. Hot walking.

Each of the horses in the stable got their own special food bucket made up depending on their nutritional requirements and racing weight. Their food was made up of a number of things including oats, pellets, hay, and fresh fruit and veg as well as fresh grass in the fields. Horses that were taking the winter off could have some additional food and take things easy. Horses that had to maintain racing weight were on more rationed food to keep them in good conditioning. Any horse feeling poorly might require medicine to be administered orally, or get a hot oaty mash that was comforting and more palatable.

As well as feeding, the morning routine included the early morning workout when the entire stable of horses was exercised across the chalk Down of the Newmarket Ridge. The chalk soil made for good hard ground with a blanket of grass that was perfect for exercise and there was a dirt training track as well that provided a variety of ground options. Every race horse was different. Some like racing on soft ground, others on hard ground, others on something in between. While most of the horses were slower if the ground was too muddy and cloying, every so often you got an odd one that loved those conditions and never raced quite the same in anything else.

There was the hotwalking later in the day, getting the horses out and walking them in circles for long periods of time to keep them fit and build up their stamina. And then there were the speed horses who might have the nearest horse equivalent to sprint training, often in pairs. For those who had injuries, or needed resistance training having a horse swim in a pool was a preferred method of working their muscles and just like human athletes they needed post-training care and feeding. The horses needed washed and brushed and their hooves and legs checked. There were regular visits from vets and farriers, deliveries of food and office supplies, phone calls to colleagues in the business and owners and race tracks.

Then there was the tack room. Each of the horses had their own tack, specially made up with brass plates. Local artisan leather workers and horse saddlers made up the tack to order and it all had to be kept in its proper place and cleaned and maintained. There was an array of regular saddles and racing saddles, blankets and other accoutrements. There were helmets and vests and spare equipment for riders even though most of the grooms had their own. Everything was kept orderly and in place. There were too many horses and too many people to do anything else or the whole place would be chaos. Running the stables on a military regime kept everything running smoothly and that extended to the care and maintenance of the stalls too.

The stalls were cleaned out daily, the dung mucked out and put in the pile, the straw refreshed and the hay nets filled. The salt licks were checked. The yard swept and hosed down. The daily routine of the work kept Jamie busy and whenever paperwork got too much he would head out to the yard or the tack room and find something to do to take his mind off his troubles. Or his mind off missing John.

When it came to the training each of the horses had their individual regime. Lately in the last few years there had been a bit of an obsession with speed in the industry. The commercial drive was towards sprint horses, horses that could make a dramatic last-ditch sprint finish. Horses for six furlong, eight furlong and ten furlong races. Middle-distance and long-distance racers seemed to be playing second fiddle, with less interest in buying and breeding and racing athletes for other distances. Jamie was in the business for his love of horses and had long since resigned himself to the commercial nature of the sport but he took a moment on this day to stop by Lady of Lallybroch’s stall. John had named her after Jamie’s childhood home, in Jamie’s honour and she was one of the finest middle-distance athletes Jamie had ever had the pleasure to train. By all rights she should be heading out to a stud farm to be covered about now, but John was giving her another year to show the world what she was made of.

The horse’s whinny welcomed Jamie and she stuck her neck out and nuzzled his palm in greeting. Even the mating of horses was a highly commercial enterprise these days. Mares were sent to the stud farm to wait for her to come into season and then when she was ready prepared in a particular way, their tails tied up out of the way, their hind hooves covered to protect the stallion in case she kicked. She would be tied up, her top lip clasped in a bid to use an evolutionary quirk that helped control the animal. The stallion would be led in, the mare would be mounted and the stallion led away again with the whole ritual being watched to make sure the stallion did his job properly. For anyone outside the business it probably looked like a bizarre ritual full of indignities. For those in the horse industry it was just another part of the business.

The other option was artificial insemination. It was commonplace now for studs to have artificial mounting blocks that the stallions could mount. Sex robots for horses, John had often joked. They would be used to collect semen samples that could be stored for a long time and sent all over the world. Horses in Australia could be mated to horses in the United States without ever having met and once horse went off to be bred they would never race again. For the most part, any particularly great athlete was sent off to stud at the earliest possible age. The money to be made from breeding thoroughbred horses was just too big a pull. It was rarer to have an owner like John agree to keep a great athlete racing for the love of the sport and Jamie’s heart melted slightly when he thought of John’s wide eyes and hopeful expression. The thought that John might be doing it just to please him occurred to Jamie. As hopeless as he was at all this, as terrified as he felt at the prospect of his relationship with John becoming a _thing,_ Jamie also knew that John was not without his own weaknesses as well.

 


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Claire had left Newmarket the day after settling her colt into his new home and returned to the empty house in London she called home. For a while after marrying she had lived with Frank in Oxford until he had moved to a position in London. Now, looking back on it, Claire could see that it had been rather a sly move in cutting her off from any hint of a social network or her Uncle’s peers and friends who had looked out for her all her life. On the one hand now her life seemed rather empty. On the other hand, Claire found boundless ideas and opportunities opening up to her and she spent an evening researching the possibility of going back to University and finishing her medical degree. When the options and finances of it all got a bit much for her brain she put it aside and threw together a pasta dish for dinner.

After dinner, Claire put on some relaxing music and poured herself a large glass of white wine and took out the materials she had pulled together on different trainers. She looked at the websites for each of the trainers and their training records. After seeing Lady of Lallybroch’s win at Newmarket however, Claire had noted the trainer’s name: James Mackenzie Fraser and there was something about the notion of searching him out that would not let her go.

Claire decided to make an appointment in the next few days and the following morning she found the number and made the call. It wasn’t James Fraser himself who answered the phone but an assistant who went to find him and came back with a request that she come and bring the horse over on Monday afternoon.

 

John came back from London that weekend to a surprise. Jamie had to leave early on Saturday morning to take a group of horses to one of the rare flat meets over the winter season. Lady of Lallybroch was staying behind this time so their time together was fleeting but Jamie had taken time out of the busy pre-race preparations to make dinner.

“What about the horses,” John enquired.

“Murtagh’s got everything in hand,” Jamie promised. He took John’s coat and led him by the hand into John’s kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind I let myself in.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” John insisted. “It smells wonderful.”

“Well its Friday so I cooked fish. It nothing too fancy, just salmon steaks with new potatoes and veg. And lots ae butter.”

Instead of John doing the cooking as usual, Jamie waited on John, serving his food, pouring his wine and taking care of everything. After dinner they sat sipping whisky, John staring at Jamie like he’d hung the moon.

“What brought this on?” John asked.

“I missed you,” Jamie said honestly. “And I’m not sure I’m ready to go _out_ out with you yet but I suppose I wanted to make it a bit of a date.”

John’s eyes lit up at the word date in a way that made Jamie’s heart smile.

“And I wanted to ask ye something.”

John put his glass down and gave Jamie his full attention. Jamie got up and walked across to the record player. Gentle piano chords began to float out across John’s living room. With gentle foot falls Jamie came back over and offered his hand. “I’m not sure how this works exactly, with two guys, but I wondered if I might have this dance?”

John rose from his seat, eyes locked on Jamie and they melted into each others arms and began to sway slowly to the music. Just enjoying the feeling of being in each others arms.

“Mmm...” John hummed, “You smell of horses.”

“I showered, I swear.”

John chuckled and gripped Jamie a little tighter. “No, its rather comforting actually. There’s something rather wholesome about horses. Its why I like them.”

“No, you just like looking at my arse in jodhpurs.”

“Well, there is that,” John acknowledged.

They smiled and laughed and held each other close and then they went upstairs to bed. Jamie kept checking his phone in case Murtagh needed him but Murtagh was maintaining a radio silence and John finally confiscated it and put it in the bedside drawer.

“If it rings you’ll still hear it there,” John promised. “You’ll need to find something else to occupy your mind for the next few hours instead of worrying over your horses.”

Jamie sat on the bed, John standing in front of him. Jamie reached out and clasped their hands together to pull John a bit closer. “Well there was something, actually.”

John’s eyes went all wide and hopeful, like an eager puppy. The man had it bad and Jamie knew he would have to tread carefully. He reckoned he was pretty hopeless at navigating all this, and anyone else would probably not been so patient with him. But John never seemed to get angry or frustrated. He only got more mischievous, teasing him whenever Jamie tied himself up in knots.

“You know how you always go off to the bathroom to have a wank when I’m here?”

An eruption of laughter blasted out of John’s chest so hard it made him cry. “Jamie! Of all the things I thought you were going to say, that was not it.”

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“You looked so nervous I thought you were halfway to a proposal by this point!” John joked.

Jamie honestly thought that might have been less nerve wracking for him than what he was going to ask John. “I was going to ask if you wanted a hand job,” He whispered.

John’s joyous teasing distilled down in a heartbeat to deeply emotive eyes that stared through Jamie’s soul and John pulled on Jamie’s hands until he stood up and John could wrap his arms around him and hug him close. A long, slow sigh escaped him. “Jamie, you know you don’t need to do that for me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I think I want to try.”

“I get more than enough sex in London.”

Jamie went quiet.

“I thought you said you didn’t mind.”

Jamie took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Just, can we agree to leave London in London?”

John nodded, “Of course.”

“And that you’re careful.” Jamie pressed.

“I will always be careful for you, Jamie. But if you’ve changed your mind about this you need to tell me.”

Jamie pulled back a bit and stared off into the distance, his thumbs caressing John’s hands where they touched. “I don’t really mind, as long as I don’t have to think about it. I know you have another life there. I’d just rather not have a long line of ex-lovers rolling up to our door in Newmarket asking for HIV tests.”

John broke off their contact and took a marked step back. “First of all, I told you I was being careful.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“No, I think you did. Secondly, I’m on PrEP, which we talked about. And thirdly...its just as likely some woman would come knocking looking for child support because a condom split.”

There were times when John hated Jamie’s inability to lie or cover up his own emotions. This was one of them. The confusion on Jamie’s face that threatened to boil over to anger or frustration hurt John deeply. He had thought that they had talked about this before he’d gone back to London that first weekend. Clearly Jamie’s understanding and his own were rather different.

“I didn’t realise there were women.”

“You didn’t ask. You told me you didn’t want to know,” John said. It wasn’t said unkindly, but it was said firmly. John wasn’t going to back down on this. “This is what I mean, when I say you need to tell me if its bothering you, Jamie.”

Jamie looked deeply into John’s eyes and then broke off contact and stared at the carpet, head hanging low. “It wouldn’t be fair on you,” Jamie said at last.

“Fair? I don’t care about fair I care about honest.”

One of Jamie’s arms reached out and snagged John’s belt loop, pulling him closer.

“Why are you only capable of having a sensitive conversation when we’re touching?” John demanded.

“No idea,” Jamie shrugged. “But I think I am being honest with you. You’re like...in the summer time here, the swallows come from Africa. They fly all this way and come and sit under the eaves and make their nests and find their partners and settle down and make a family. And then they go away again. They leave and they return. Year after year. Its part of who they are, what they are. And their absence in the winter makes your heart leap with joy the first time you see one swooping through the sky in April, those loops and swirls and flying like its liquid happiness, like just being alive and being here lifts them into the sky. That’s what you are to me John. I’d as soon clip a swallow’s wings as ask you to stop doing things that give your life meaning, that are part of who you are. Do you understand me? Even if it hurts.”

John clasped Jamie’s face between his hands and kissed him hard and deep. Jamie kissed him back, hungry and desperate. “How is it,” John’s voice cracked, “That you can’t say, ‘I love you’ but you can say something like that.”

“I suppose most of my life I’ve known animals better than humans,” Jamie shrugged. “Go and have sex if you want to have sex. Just don’t be an arse about it.”

John raised an eyebrow at Jamie whose tense shoulders collapsed into laughter.

 


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

“Aye trust you to bring out the anal sex jokes.”

“I think you’ll find you’re the only one to have mentioned it in this conversation,” John replied.

They sank into another hug until at length, Jamie pulled back and looked into John’s eyes. “John, I’m still working this out but I really would like to try.”

“Only if you’re sure,” John insisted.

Jamie leaned in to capture John’s lip between his own. He nipped at it with his teeth and when John opened his mouth their tongue’s met in a wet, sloppy kiss. John felt himself being backed up as Jamie’s presence suddenly seemed strong and dominant and God! This was the Jamie he had fallen for with the intense eyes and the way his shoulders rolled with muscle and pent-up tension. John’s stomach clenched as he let Jamie take charge and he felt his body respond. The smell of hay and sweat and the sandlewood of Jamie’s shower products as John’s back hit the bedroom wall and Jamie’s hands began to work at his belt.

“Do you...” John swallowed hard. “Do you want to do this separately or both together.”

“I want to watch you come,” Jamie said.

Separately it was then, John thought to himself. And decided to allow his body to be taken along on whatever ride it was Jamie had in mind. Jamie had John’s belt undone, his hand slipping inside John’s trousers to cup John through his boxer briefs. In the time they had spent together so far, Jamie had been physically affectionate with hugs and kisses and skin-to-skin contact but it had always been in a hands-above-belt manner that drove John somewhat crazy. It wasn’t that Jamie never got an erection, but whenever Jamie’s body was aroused he seemed rather disinclined to do anything about it.

Jamie insisted, however, that he did have a libido, he just didn’t really have a desire to engage sexually with other people. So far that had also extended to engaging sexually with himself while John was around too and for now John had mostly been reduced to disappearing off to the bathroom to take care of himself. Even leaving the door open hadn’t prompted Jamie to come and investigate.

John couldn’t deny he harboured secret hopes that even as an asexual, Jamie would want to engage sexually at some level at some point. Now as that moment had finally come John groaned hard as Jamie’s hand pressed against the length of him. Christ! What he wouldn’t do now for a blow job. But John would take what he could get and he tried to hold himself together as Jamie explored him through his briefs until John was a hair’s breadth from coming and stilled Jamie’s hand.

Without words, Jamie paused. John could feel the way Jamie watched him intensely, watched him cling onto the last remnants of control by the skin of his teeth.

“Hush, now. I’ll take care o’ ye,” Jamie promised, leaning into nip John’s mouth again.

John rested his forehead against Jamie’s shoulder as Jamie finally pulled his underwear down, taking care to pull the elastic away from John’s erection so it didn’t ping back. Jamie’s hands were warm and gentle.

“Condom?” John grunted.

“Not for this, I want to feel ye,” Jamie asked and John nodded. For a hand job, he would let it go. “Do ye want lube?” Jamie asked quietly.

John shook his head. The lube and condoms he had here were in the bathroom cabinet and would be cold. He didn’t want to give Jamie any reason to move away. With a bit of luck there would be other times to try that. John instead focused with great concentration on his breathing as Jamie explored him, learning him. A large warm palm with callouses fondled his testicles and John felt Jamie’s eyes on him watching for any reaction. It struck John for the first time that Jamie was a natural dom. He thought of testicle cuffs, of sounding and submitting to Jamie’s wants for his body and John’s body reacted instinctively as his pleasure curled around the base of his spine and he called out Jamie’s name in warning as he felt his balls tighten.

Jamie reached down and clamped his hand tight around the base to stop him from coming. “Not yet,” Jamie whispered, his lips close to John’s ear.

John could admit surprise at Jamie’s move. But any deeper rational thought was beyond him. His world was Jamie and pleasure and he took in deep breaths as Jamie moved away for a while and the moment passed. Jamie came back and threw the lube and condoms on the bed and then stood in the centre of the room and slowly unbuttoned his shirt and removed his trousers until he was wearing only his own underwear. The regular workouts and the physical job had given Jamie a body of strong muscular legs, tight abs and strong shoulders that rolled as he moved. He was wearing black boxer-briefs that tented at the groin and John wondered if Jamie was going to abandon him here. He watched Jamie put some lube in his hand and warm it between his palms. John focused on his breathing and bit back a demand for more, longing for Jamie to finally come back across the room. John closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer to a God he didn’t really believe in.

“Oh thank god,” John exhaled as he felt a warm, calloused palm wrap around his erection and move with a twist. Jamie pulled back John’s foreskin and let his thumb tease the sensitive skin at the head. A drop of precum leaked out and Jamie spread it, moving his thumb in small gentle motions watching John’s reaction all the time. If John had been expecting Jamie to go hard at it, he was going to be disappointed. Jamie was gentle, and careful and intense. He mapped the veins on John’s erection, his grip moving with maddening slowness as he alternated attention between the shaft and the head.

When John finally came it was with an ugly sob as Jamie whispered quiet Gaelic in his ear and held him close. He panted heavily, Jamie’s bare arm wrapped around him for support. Jamie began to tidy John up but John stilled his hands and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He couldn't quite form words again yet, but John realised he had come all over Jamie and reached out a hand towards Jamie’s abs. Looking at Jamie’s intense gaze and raging erection, John knew at once Jamie had done it deliberately.

“Is that clear enough for you,” Jamie asked quietly.

John’s hand pressed against Jamie’s stomach, his hand spreading through the sticky silver substance decorating his skin. John simply nodded.

“Shower?”

Happy and satisfied, John would have agreed to jump off a pier at that point but his attempts to return the favour for Jamie were swiftly turned down and the closest John got was being allowed to help Jamie wash himself in the shower. It was another test of John’s will to keep his promise to Jamie that he would keep his hands off.

Afterwards, lying in bed John spooned up close against Jamie. “Was it alright?” Jamie asked.

“Alright?” John spluttered. “You kept that quiet. How can you be asexual AND amazing at sex.”

“Research?” Jamie shrugged. “Overcompensating, I suppose.”

“Well I volunteer to be a research subject any time you want.”

Jamie chuckled and wrapped John’s arms around him tighter. He liked the way John tucked his chin into his shoulder, like it had always fitted there.

“You do understand that orgasms are supposed to be reciprocal, right?”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

John sighed. One step forwards, two steps back. He paused, while he considered how to put his perspective across. “Part of sexual satisfaction for me, is watching my partner be satisfied too.”

Honestly, Jamie thought he had never been interested enough in sex to bother learning what he liked. The emotional stability he found in his relationship with John was making him question that a little.

“John, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Is it like this with your other folks? When its casual sex too?”

John thought about it for a moment. “No. Its a physical release but...no.”

“John, can I ask ye another question?”

John chucked, “Fire away, Jamie.”

“If I wasnae asexual, what was it you would want to be doing with me in return?”

“I was trying to offer you a blow job.”

Jamie thought that was something most people with penises were supposed to want. He thought about accepting, about John’s need to feel the favour was being returned and what he might be willing to go along with. “And, are there other things ye think about doing? That you’d like?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions, tonight. Are you feeling ok?”

“I’m just trying to understand,” Jamie shrugged. “How is it someone like me isnae bothered about much of it at all with anybody and someone like you likes everything wi’ everyone and we’ve ended up the’gither?”

“It is a funny old world,” John mused. “But since you ask I do like pretty much everything. I like traditional intercourse with women, I like a woman who can use a strap-on, I like anal sex – top and bottom – and if you ever decide you want to fuck me I will be up the road from London faster than the bloody TARDIS, Jamie Fraser. I like giving and receiving blow jobs and hand jobs. I like play with toys and light BDSM. testicle cuffs, dildos, anal plugs. Even sounding with the right partner. Of course, there’s a lot of trust involved there so its not something I’d do with anyone. And I like multi-partner sex.”

“And these are things you do in London?”

John pulled away from Jamie and propped himself up so he could look at his boyfriend properly. “This is new.”

Jamie looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know, John, it just feels different than it did a few weeks ago.”

“Different how?”

“I know you more now.”

“And that makes a difference?”

“Aye, it makes a huge difference.”

John waited, hoping Jamie would expand on whatever was going on in that quirky brain of his. When he spoke again Jamie’s voice was quiet, and a bit uncertain. “You said when you thought I was asexual that some people can only do it when there’s an emotional connection there. I’m sure there will always be times I’m not interested, or things I’m not interested in and it won’t be the same as being with someone who’s the same as you are but the more I think about it, the better I feel about trying things now that we’ve been doing this a while.”

It was new, but it was also a glimmer of hope for John. As much as he would accept whatever Jamie was comfortable with because he loved him – had been in love with him, in fact, for a long time – that didn’t meant wasn’t hard. If Jamie had arrived at a place where he was starting to think about trying some things, John liked to think that they might eventually get to a point where some level of regular intimacy of some sort could be managed between them. He hadn’t been sure at all when Jamie first opened himself to the idea of a relationship that anything of the sort would ever happen. It was clear this was something John would have to be patient with.

 


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

They fell asleep pressed into each other’s arms and John awoke when Jamie slid back into bed after going to the toilet in the middle of the night. The condoms and lube were on Jamie's bedside cabinet and Jamie held a foil square in his hand, turning it this way and that. Apparently Jamie wasn’t going to be going back to sleep any time soon.

John groaned and stretched. Last night had been good but it had also left him wanting more. He wanted a dildo, or a strap on, or a strapping man with a penis. Depending on what Jamie wanted or didn’t want this morning, John had a feeling he was going to go out on the town as soon as he got back to London. It was early, absurdly so. Outside it wasn’t even light and John knew that Jamie would have to be up in an hour or so and get across to the stables and Murtagh.

“Do you have a wishlist of some sort?” Jamie asked quietly.

“Right now I’d give you all the sexless evenings you want if you put that condom on and fucked me with it.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am one hundred percent serious, Jamie Fraser. The moment you’re out that door I’m grabbing my dildo and fucking myself unconscious with it.”

“You have a dildo?”

“I have a large box of sex toys in the bottom of my wardrobe. Washed and sterilised.”

Jamie, who was clearly wide awake, immediately got up and went over to John’s wardrobe and came back with the promised box. John watched hopefully as Jamie rifled through it. “Bring a plug over.”

Jamie held something up and John nodded. John shrugged his pyjama bottoms off. He realised he was shaking slightly. It was different, somehow, with Jamie watching him. Jamie’s curious mind wondering how it all worked. John grabbed the lube from the bedside cabinet and coated two fingers and he watched Jamie’s face as he began to prep himself using first one finger, and then two, then three.

“With vaginas the muscles naturally relax when aroused. With anal you have to loosen things up yourself, with plenty of lube. And its good to have had a dump recently, as crude as that sounds.”

Jamie looked unimpressed by that last remark but he watched John take his time preparing himself and then asked Jamie to lube up the plug. Lying on his back with a pillow under his hips, Jamie did as John asked and watched the intense changes on John’s face as the toy filled him.

“You like that,” Jamie observed.

John nodded, swallowing hard as he felt the stretch inside him that bordered pain and pleasure. Curiosity got the better of Jamie and he reached down and pulled it out, only to put it back in again in a motion that made John groan deeply. When he opened his eyes, he could see Jamie’s pupils were dark and wide.

Jamie liked this, John realised. Liked watching. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could persuade Jamie to use the dildo. To his surprise, Jamie stripped off his own pyjamas and tore open the foil packet. He jerked himself a few times but shook his head at John when he reached to help roll the condom on. John tried to not let himself get too excited. In his head he reminded himself that Jamie had the choice to decide at any time he didn’t want to do this but there was a quiet determination on Jamie’s face. It was desire, exactly, but it was a determination to try, for John’s sake. As someone who had been overtly homophobic when they’d first met, John thought that Jamie had been making quite the transformation.

“How do you want to do this?” Jamie whispered. His voice was shaking slightly, his body pulsing with adrenalin.

John rolled over onto all fours and backed up to Jamie in a manner that reminded Jamie for all the world of a mare in season. He thought John probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison and kept his silence. He kneeled up on the bed and brought John’s hips back towards him.

“I havenae really done this with a bloke, ye know? I might do it all wrong.”

“Once you get past the first bit its just the same, more or less,” John promised, hoping against hope that Jamie wasn’t about to change his mind. A groan shot through him as Jamie gripped the plug and toyed with it a bit, feeling the resistance.

“I’m starting to think I should shove one of these up yer arse every time you come in the door if you really like it that much,” Jamie mused with curiosity, finally taking it out.

‘ _If only’_ , was John’s mental response. “You’ll find it a bit tight so go slow. Get past the sphincter and then start with small thrusts.”

Jamie added more lube and did as he was told. At first Jamie wasn’t sure if it was even going to fit without hurting John in some way as the tightness of the sphincter resisted him and then John’s body gave way and he was inside.

Heat.

Tight. John’s muscles clenched around him eliciting a guttural noise from Jamie and he pulled out and thrust again. He followed John’s commands, taking things easy until John’s body had loosened up enough for Jamie to sink in to the hilt and they stayed there for a long moment, John’s forehead pressed against the pillow.

“Are you ok?” Jamie whispered.

John let out a low, pleasured groan and clenched his muscles. He nodded, “God that feels so good.” Jamie was not small, and John liked that. A lot.

Taking this as his queue Jamie began to move but John reached a hand back and found Jamie’s hand. “Not like that,” John croaked out, his voice raspy. “Harder.”

Jamie began to move again and again John stopped him. “Jamie...” John swallowed hard. “I need you to not be gentle with me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

“But I might-”

“You’re doing this to please me; I’m telling you what I need. Can you do that?”

“You want it harder?”

“I want to forget my own name. I want a fuck I’ll be feeling this time next week.”

John felt Jamie hesitate and then Jamie’s hands gripped him hard and John could almost feel the hardening in Jamie’s demeanour as one of Jamie’s hands gripped his buttocks and Jamie’s hips snapped in a brutal thrust that forced a grunt from his throat. Jamie’s mind wavered between concern for John’s wellbeing and a resolve to please that strengthened as he saw John response. Carefully and then then more firmly Jamie picked up the speed, setting a punishing pace that had John descend into non-verbal grunts. A darker part of Jamie stirred, enjoying the power and he redoubled his efforts until his powerful orgasm coiled in his groin and he came in stuttering, feral thrusts to the hilt.

He came to, panting, to the sight of John doing horizontal gymnastics with a vibrator. Jamie reached over and stilled John’s hand. Their eyes made contact.

John’s smiled was a warm puddle of goo, relaxed and happy. “No self control,” He teased Jamie from a dry throat. Jamie took the vibrator from John and eased it in deeper.

“Did I hurt ye?”

John shook his head. He needed this. He needed this more than he knew how to say to Jamie but Jamie seemed to get it. Or have his own ideas perhaps. Watching John carefully, Jamie began to use it on John. John wiggled his bum, searching out the sensation of the vibrations against his prostate causing Jamie to pull out altogether. “Ye’ll get rewarded with that when you’re done getting served,” Jamie’s voice was deep and slightly raspy.

John stared back bleary eyed and halfway to orgasm.

“I’d like tae watch. Watch and see ye take it deep and hard, the way ye like it. Do I have your permission?”

“If it gets too much and I say ‘gooseberries’, you stop,” John told Jamie.

Jamie nodded but John knew the safe word was more for Jamie’s peace of mind than any likelihood he would need to use it himself. As Jamie eased the toy in he muttered an apology on behalf of his stamina leading to a dark chuckle from John that turned into a groan.

By the time Jamie finally touched the vibrator to John’s prostate some time later, John was beyond all forms of words. He came hard and long, Jamie holding him with one hand and controlling the vibrator with the other, issues soothing words as he manipulated the toy to stretch out John’s orgasm until he was done.

There was a wet patch on the sheets, toys to wash and sterilise and Jamie had to get up. Jamie held John until he fell asleep and then went for a shower, letting the water pound the back of his neck as he hung his head wondering what he had done. He’d liked it. He’d liked watching John, but that had been different even than the events of a few hours before and Jamie had not been prepared for the intensity of the encounter, or his own reaction. What was more, Jamie knew that even with little personal desire for sex he had enjoyed it and knew he would do it for John again.

Apparently they had found something he liked.

He washed and dressed in clean clothes, a bag he’d left in the spare room had casual clothes he could use to walk home. In the master bedroom John was sound asleep, but naked. Jamie tidied the toys away to the bathroom, the condoms to the bin. The lube to bedside drawer. Before leaving to go downstairs he went back into the master bedroom one last time and tucked the duvet around John.

John stirred, half awake.

“I’ve got to go. I love you,” Jamie said, leaning down to give him a kiss.

“I love you too,” John muttered back.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm,” John snuggled down into the bed. “I won’t last the week.”

“What happens in London stays in London,” Jamie told him. It was an echo of their conversation the night before that had started all this. Jamie knew he would need to use the week to think. To think about what this change in their relationship meant for him, for where the new goalposts and boundaries were. It was emotional, and it was physical as well. He got up and caressed John’s smartly cut English prep school haircut.

Jamie didn’t say goodbye or take his leave. His heart and his mind were in turmoil as time and obligations pulled him away. At his house he changed quickly, his brain slipping into the right mode for his work. The stables were busy and already alive. Murtagh had the horse box open already with the runner for that day’s races being loaded onto the box for that day’s drive to Chelmsford.

 


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

John had a lazy lie in and spent a long time snuggled under the sheets with a stupid grin on his face. He felt wonderfully sore in all the right places and when he finally got up he ran a bath and luxuriated in bubbles until his skin wrinkled. He got up and dressed in comfortable chinos and an oxford shirt. He stripped the bed and put the dirty sheets in to wash and made up the master bed with clean sheets. John started a fresh shopping list on the fridge which listed, ‘Condoms, lube,’ at the top.

A lazy brunch was followed by an afternoon on the sofa watching the racing on the television and then a trip up to the stables to see Lady. He took himself out for dinner – the house was too empty without Jamie there – and went to bed late and slightly drunk. The following day he stocked up on non-perishables and left a note for Jamie. He didn’t keep much in the way of perishables in. Most of the food he kept here was frozen, or things like eggs and cheese that would keep for a few days until he was here next. The milk was finished, the orange juice and the fruit and the few bits of veg he had in were put in a bag that he would take with him and transfer to his fridge in London.

John’s flat in London was a small single-bedroom affair he didn’t like very much. It was over-priced and under-used but he was resigned to the necessity of being there for work and he was fortunate enough to come from a family that had enough money for him to have a second home, but the comfortable semi-formal wear he tended to prefer at Newmarket was a marked contrast from the styles that were present in his London wardrobe. There were his work clothes of course, the suits and the ties and the set of five washed and ironed shirts he would pick up from the dry cleaner’s.

Then there were his ‘trendy London clothes’ which John owned not because they were by any means a preferred style but because John understood he was supposed to look a certain way and London had its own sense of style when it came to pubs, clubs, socialising and going out on the town. It occurred to John that Jamie had probably very rarely seen him dress in any of this and he wondered what his boyfriend would think about it.

John had work tomorrow, but he needed an itch scratched and Jamie had given him all but free reign. Once back in his London flat, John pulled out a pair of snug designer jeans and a clean pair of briefs. Jamie had never commented on underwear preferences, and so John simply wore his most comfortable boxer briefs. Boxer briefs, however, tended to give a flat profile to the groin. For going out on the town John wanted attention. He had some pairs of expensively cut briefs that sculpted his ‘bulge’ in a way that drew eyes. John matched it with a tailored long-sleeved t-shirt from a Covent Garden designer boutique and a buttery-soft leather jacket from a high end Italian brand.

The looks was simple, suave and made him look – he liked to think – rather dashing. John thought of taking a selfie and sending it to Jamie and then thought again, in case Jamie didn’t want to know.

John headed into the city centre on the tube, smirking as eyes of both men and women glanced over his flat abs, his slim hips and the curves of his jeans. He headed towards a gastro pub he liked, with modern clean-cut décor in heritage tones and a menu that was short but all good. The drinks were locallly made ciders and craft beers sourced from around the UK. The price was expensive, even for London but John liked the atmosphere. It was busy, as one might expect but not as busy as it would have been the night before. Still, he would have to wait a few minutes for a table and accepted the offer to sit at the bar where another customer on their own was also sitting nursing a drink.

It wasn’t a soft drink either, the lady had gone straight to the hard spirits – a whisky or bourbon – and she had an elegant figure that was at once both arresting and aloof.

John ordered a white wine and sipped it, thinking of Jamie with the long drive back. Or wondering if the horses would be kept overnight and brought back the next day. They might be, but likely Murtagh would do that and Jamie would head back the same day to see to the stables.

“Aren’t we doing this the wrong way around?”

John looked up at the woman’s voice, which seemed to be addressing him.

“Can I help you?”

The woman smiled. It was a smile that was soft and kind and far too intelligent. This woman was smart, John thought and internally he groaned. He always fell for the smart ones. And the pretty ones. And this lady was both. “I was only thinking that in the movies the man always orders hard drinks and the lady has a glass of house white.”

John smiled at that comment and sipped his wine. “If you live your life by other people’s expectations it gets very boring very quickly, I find. I like to think my horizons are a bit broader than that. John Grey, at your service.”

“Claire Beauchamp,” Claire said, her eyebrows rising at John’s declaration of his open mindedness. Something in his manner, the way he dressed, the way he carried himself struck her as not entirely straight and she wondered if this was a good idea. It had taken half a glass of Islay to pluck up the courage to speak to the handsome man who had perched next to her at the bar. On his own, no ring, clearly alone. Probably a bit of a player, Claire thought. But she had been high and dry long enough and maybe that would be good. A quick fling that didn’t mean much, to help her move on. Get her into living her life once again. “I don’t suppose you’re waiting for a table?” Claire asked him.

The handsome man with the kind eyes nodded and spoke again in that distinctive privately educated RP. “Indeed. And yourself?”

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” The concierge interrupted them. “We have a table ready for you.”

Claire turned to the stranger. Nothing ventured, noting gained. “Would you like to share?”

 

His name was John, which he insisted was actually his real name and not a cover name so his wife wouldn’t find out. He worked in London in a ‘boring civil service job’ and got out of the city as often as he could on the weekends. John was cultured, funny, smart and well read. He liked the theatre, and had one of those learned ever-inquisitive minds. They told stories and laughed, they complained about the government and raved about the theatre. John told her that either he could pay, or she could pay, or they could split it and he wouldn’t mind. He was smart, funny and frankly too good to be true. Claire had never clicked with someone so quickly and after two glasses of wine and three courses of food they found themselves walking slowly along the pavement outside.

‘ _Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’_ Claire thought. “Would you like to come back to mine?”

John pressed his lips together and tried not to smile. He thought of Jamie, and Jamie’s last words – his promise. What happens in London stays in London. “I would like that very much.”

They didn’t make it to the bed. Teasing, venturing hands had started creeping around in the taxi and by the time they got up the stairs they were giggling and kissing and fondling through their clothes. By habit John carried a condom in his wallet. Within minutes Claire had his jeans around his knees and her dress hiked up around her waist and was rolling the condom onto John’s erection. He lifted her onto a sideboard and when he parted her legs with his hand John found her wet and responsive. Claire, it turned out, was a bit of a vixen, and John listened to her gasped instructions and did his best to please her.

Even with her mind on the possibility of a hook-up, Claire hadn’t expected things to just fall into place and yet she and John appeared to be on the same wavelength. They got on, as some would say, like a house on fire and he moved inside her just the way she needed. John was responsive, handsome, sexy as hell and definitely knew how to handle himself between the sheets. Not content with his own orgasm, John had found her clit and apparently knew _exactly_ what to do with it in a way that Claire had never experienced with a stranger before without giving directions and neon signposts and then, after intercourse John had fingered Claire to another two orgasms until she was sated and satisfied and worn out. John kissed her on the mouth and told her she looked beautiful.

Claire sat on Frank’s mother’s sideboard, legs spread wide, underwear at her feet watching a stranger take off a condom and dump it in the designer waste paper basket Frank had brought back from some boutique in New York.

His hand touched her leg but it wasn’t leery and possessive like Claire was used to. It was light, respectful and his whole demeanour was full of joy. Claire’s heart sank as she watched him try to decide whether to pull his jeans back up or take or them off and he looked so adorable for a moment as he wavered between his two options that Claire’s heart beat faster. She wanted him again, and he was standing just there.

This was not meant to happen so quickly. Still, she couldn’t stop herself asking. If she didn’t ask he would be gone. Disappeared into London never to be seen by Claire again.

When John had pulled his trousers up Claire used a beltloop to pull him towards her. “Would you take these off and stay the night?”

Claire felt John gently lay a hand on her waist, checking with his eyes that this was ok. “I would love to stay the night.”

“Why doesn’t this feel awkward?” Claire asked.

“I have no idea,” John mused. “What are your feelings on kissing?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist!


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This weeks the British Horseracing Authority suspended racing in the UK due to an outbreak of equine flu and a large number of yards are under lockdown. Hopefully the matter can be resolved quickly.

**Chapter 14**

Later that night after round two they lay in Claire’s marital bed, Claire’s leg hooked over John’s thigh as he told her about himself.

“You’re bisexual? I thought you were different.”

“Different how?”

“Fun, safe. Respectful. Less possessive than some men.”

“No, its pretty safe to say I’m not big on possessive,” John turned onto his side and propped his head on one hand. His other reached out over to Claire’s torso and fondled a breast cupping it gently and playing with the nipple but like every other touch Claire had received from him, John’s touch was curious, interested and grounded in respect. Gentle. There was a feeling of safety in that that Claire wasn’t sure she had ever experienced in her whole life with Frank.

“Will you sleep here tonight?”

“If you like.”

Even the way he spoke struck Claire. Considerate. Thoughtful. John was someone who naturally took into consideration other people’s feelings in every matter. He was, Claire decided, probably someone who felt deeply himself and it was something that Claire’s heart seemed to respond to.

The sex wasn’t bad either.

“Can I see you again?” Claire asked hopefully.

It was a curious reason for John to break eye contact. His hand moved from her breast down to her hand, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly to hers. “Claire, I like you very much but I must be honest with you. I do have a boyfriend.”

 

 

Now John was lying in the bed, his back propped up against Claire’s headrest as Claire stood wrapped in a dressing gown and her arms crossed, blocking the door. John sat himself up in the bed and watched her. “Its called an open relationship.”

“You cheated on your boyfriend with me?”

“No, rather the opposite actually.”

“I want you out of my house.”

“Alright,” John peeled back the covers and began to get dressed. He wanted to explain but there was no point making a fuss. John had had more than one run-in over the years and there were only so many times he could expect Hal to resolve matters and keep it all out of the papers. Claire watched him silently and then walked him to the door. “Claire,” John’s voice was soft. “He’s always said to me, ‘what happens in London stays in London’. We both understand what it means. I’m sorry if you felt I’ve mislead you, it wasn’t my intention.”

Claire closed the door in his face.

She’d known it was too good to be true.

 

Her heart pounding, Claire went straight to the shower and scrubbed as hard as she could but no amount of scrubbing could erase the memories of her late husband’s infidelity. The countless different perfumes and lipsticks she had washed off his shirts. At least John used condoms, she mused.

Knowing she wouldn’t sleep for a while Claire stayed up and watched some horse racing coverage on catch-up and waited until she was too tired to move before falling into bed and going to sleep. In the morning she resolved to start all afresh with renewed vigour. She had an appointment in Newmarket with the colt’s trainer and planned to get there in plenty of time to visit Mrs Baird’s stable first.

The drive up to Newmarket the following morning was marred by the rush hour traffic that lingered late into the morning leaving her much shorter of time than she had planned when leaving first thing. Claire was still a little ache-y from the night before and it should have felt good, but the lingering reminder of the physical pleasure was marred by what felt like deceit from the man she had taken home. At least he had been careful, and left when she asked. Frank would have started an argument. John had just looked heartbroken but why anyone thought she would be ok with being someone’s bit on the side after what Claire had lived through with Frank was beyond her and she resolved to put it out of her mind and focus on the business of the day.

As she pulled into Mrs Baird’s stable, Claire could see that the lady she had entrusted had done her job. Mrs Baird had a busy, caring way about her and she was competently checking the horse’s hooves ones last time before he went into the trailer. The colt was standing waiting for Claire, clean and brushed with his hooves neatly filed by a farrier. His coat was gleaming, his mane and tail were neatly trimmed and he was watching the goings on of the yard with interest. Mrs Baird welcomed her and bid her come over to the horse and say hello. A quarter of apple was nibbled happily and he let Claire stroke his muzzle. Although when stabled the horses never wore halters, the colt had had his halter put on for the journey so a lead rein could be clipped on for easy handling. He was by nature docile and good tempered and Claire liked that about him.

“Right,” Mrs Baird put down the final hoof and took the lead rein from the groom who had been holding it. “Lets get this lad loaded and we’ll get up the road to Mister Fraser’s place.”

“You speak as if you know it,” Claire observed.

“Oh we all know each other in one way or another,” Mrs Baird smiled. “He’s a good egg, is Jamie. Honest, you know?”

Claire wondered after last night whether too much honesty was a good or a bad thing. But she watched as the colt was led into the horse box for what Mrs Baird assured her was a nice short journey.

“He travelled well on the way here when you brought him, so lets hope its more of the same today,” Mrs Baird observed as she loaded him into the trailer and tied off his lead rein. The horse was secured, the back was closed up and Claire was invited to leave her car there and jump in the front with Mrs Baird. It was a large vehicle that looked to be very expensive, but Mrs Baird drove it like she’d been doing it all her life. “My mother drove trucks in the war,” Mrs Baird explained, “She gave me a few tips when I was learning myself.”

Claire laughed out loud. It occurred to her that she had missed having someone like Mrs Baird in her life. Her Uncle had never married or dated women. Neither of her parents had had siblings and the itinerant nature of her upbringing had meant that there were rarely elderly neighbours or local aunties to get acquainted with. It was a new and pleasant experience to be able to watch and learn from an older woman. She always explained to Claire what she was doing and invited her to participate. It was a manner of teaching, Claire supposed. One she was surprised to find herself enjoying. Mrs Baird even mentioned a couple of books on the way over that Claire intended to look up to give her a broader understanding of the animals and the industry she was getting involved with.

At the yard, Mrs Baird needed no directions. There was a simple field style gate Claire got out to open and close to let the vehicle through beyond which they drove a short way up a worn gravel and dirt drive and pulled into a stable yard. An older gentleman came out to meet them with greying brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a while and worn stable clothes. He had the efficient way about him of someone who did the same physical tasks every day and promptly ordered a groom here or a stable hand there.

“Ye’ll be the owner then,” He said to Claire by way of greeting. “Mrs Baird.”

“Murtagh,” Mrs Baird nodded back. “Murtagh is Mister Fraser’s Stable Manager,” Mrs Baird explained to Claire. “He’ll make sure our lad is all ready for him to inspect.”

Without a word spoken the two went to the back of the horsebox and began to open it up as if they had been working together in this way since time immemorial.

“Yearling, is it?”

“That’s right. A colt.”

“A colt.” Murtagh muttered under his breath. “Too many colts by half.”

“Why do you say that?” Claire enquired.

Murtagh looked around at her from where he was stood at the back of the horse box. “Too many owners wait until they’re a two year old or older, until they’ve raced a few thinking they might go to stud and make a load of dosh.” Murtagh shook his head. “There’s too many stallions as it is by my book, but what do I know? I only work with them.”

It was the most Claire heard out of the man for the rest of the day. As if he had exhausted his day’s supply of words he went about his business with Mrs Baird getting the horse unloaded and out in the yard ready for Mister Fraser’s inspection. Claire meanwhile pulled the folder she had brought out of her bag. It contained all the paperwork, the blood work, the pedigree, the auction house paperwork, the anti-doping tests and vaccinations and everything that she had on her horse. Just in case. Around them horses heads stuck out of their stable doors, watching the events of the yard with curious and intelligent eyes at the new arrival. When the horse was unloaded and Murtagh had had a quick inspection himself, he nodded curtly almost to himself and stood up straight.

“I’ll let him know yer here,” Murtagh grunted at them and then walked off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As wonderful as I know it is for readers to get twice weekly updates, I've been struggling with the schedule. I appreciate every single reader, but I have to do what's right by me first and therefore going forwards I'm going to drop the midweek update and stick with a weekly update on Friday or Saturday. Thank you for your understanding.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events in RL had to take priority over fic updates. Thank you for your patience. I know a lot of you have been waiting for this one.

**Chapter 15**

From the opposite side of the yard a man walked towards them wearing black jodhpurs and black leather riding boots that hugged the well-toned shape of his calves. He wore a white polo neck top that clung to slim arms and a dark safety vest and riding hat. As he walked he peeled of the hat and vest and held out a hand towards Claire. Underneath was an overgrown mop of russet hair, tones of copper and strawberry blonde that had a slight wave to them as if the locks would curl if grown long. He had sharp ice-blue eyes, with high cheek bones and freckles and was dressed head to toe in the sort of body-clinging riding clothes that horse people seemed to take as par for the course. Mister Fraser was at least twenty years younger than she had expected, and half a foot taller.

No ring Claire, noted automatically looking towards his left hand. Not that that meant as much as it used to, she mused, thinking of the events the night before.

But a woman could look.

“James Mackenzie Fraser,” Jamie stuck out his hand.

“Claire Beauchamp,” Claire accepted the hand and shook it. The grip was firm, but businesslike. Their eyes met, lingered, and then Jamie cleared his throat. “Thank you, Murtagh. Mrs Baird, good to see you.”

“Jamie,” Mrs Baird nodded at him and Claire realised as she caught the mannerism that they were all Scots. “Murtagh and I will just pop into the staff room for tea.”

“We will?” Murtagh looked surprised at this announcement. Mrs Baird linked her arm through Murtagh’s and led him off, already beginning her interrogation of the state of the latest feed batch and what the plan was for fodder through the winter.

Alone with the horse and Mister Fraser, Claire found herself at a bit of a loss. Mister Fraser’s eyes felt sharp on her skin, as if he was trying to make her out and it made Claire feel self conscious. She joined her hands, looked down at the ground and took two or three seconds to gather herself before looking up. Claire knew that she knew next to nothing about horses. James Fraser was one of the most respected trainers in the country. Claire was a fish out of water but she would not be intimidated.

“I recently came into some money, Mister Fraser, with the passing of my husband and I decided to invest it in horses. As you can see I have made the purchase of a yearling and while I’m aware we many not know his potential just yet, I would value your opinion as to whether you think you can train him.”

Jamie nodded. “Just call me Jamie. I’m sorry to hear about your husband.”

“Thank you.”

“Might I...” Jamie indicated towards the horse.

“Of course.”

Jamie’s eyes turned sharp and keen, his experience immediately coming through in his manner. His hands were confident but calm, examining one part of the horse and then another and muttering observations under his breath as he did so.

“Short back...topline's a little off but we can work on that. Good neck. Level,” Jamie noted the way the colt didn’t hold his head too high. “Strong shoulders.” Jamie’s hands moved down to the top of the fore legs and ran his hands over a small muscle at the top of the leg. “Well boned, nice arms. His canon bones are a bit longer than some people like but its a bit of a matter of personal taste, I would say, and ye’ve a nice forty-five degree angle down there at the hoof.” Jamie stood up and took a step back. He noted the deep chest, and then moved around to the back and his whole demeanour changed.

“Did ye look at his hips before ye bought him?”

“Sorry?”

“Did ye look at his hips?” Jamie repeated. “His conformation.”

“Is there something wrong with them?”

Jamie made a motion for the groom to hold the lead rein tight and jerked his head for Claire to come towards him. “Mind the back end, come wide around in case he kicks and stand here. See that leg?” Jamie pointed at one side of the horse. It was the slightest of things, something Claire would have never have seen for herself without an expert at horses pointing it out. “Ye’ve bought a horse wi’ a gammy leg.”

“A what leg?”

“A leg that isn’t as good as it should be. Yer lad’s leg here is all squinty.”

Claire remembered Mrs Baird’s kind reminder that the horse would still be good riding, no matter what Jamie said and she couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs Baird had noticed the problem and just been to polite to say so. “It can’t be. Surely it’s just the way he’s standing. And besides, wouldn't someone have told me?”

“I’m afraid not,” Jamie shook his head. “Its entirely up to the buyer to notice. It could be a muscular thing, or even a joint thing. Most likely congenital. Ye might get a bit of racing out of him, but ye’re always running the risk of future problems. That’ll be why he was one of the lower priced horses.”

“How would you know how much I paid?”

“Because its my business to know every horse that comes into this yard,” Jamie replied and then sighed. “Ye’d need an expert eye to see it, lass. Ye shouldnae blame yersel’.”

“But his bloodlines...” Claire opened up her folder and took out the sheet she had of the colt’s pedigree, noting his dam and sire and grand-dam and grand-sire and back through the generations.

“Aye, I was curious about that. An odd mix of speed and stamina lines. Sometimes mixing them up works and sometimes all ye get is a hot mess that cannae do either.”

“Well I think he’s a nice horse,” Claire defended herself. At least, it felt like she was having to defend herself. Herself and her horse.

“I appreciate that you’re new to the industry, and I don’t mean to be unkind. But in recent years stamina blood lines have just not been commercial. From knowing his dam as I do, she tends to throw to the sire but it looks like you’ve got an exception wi’ this lad and he’s come out the spit of his Mum.”

“I saw your work with Lady of Lallybroch,” Claire pushed. “She’s a middle distance horse. I’ve done my research.”

“There’s a difference between research and experience,” Jamie sighed. It was a pity. He was a nice looking horse, good bloodlines. But these sorts of details were the exact reasons most people with money engaged bloodstock agents to do their investing for them. “I'll admit I havenae seen him run but from what I'm seeing here, if it wasnae for his leg with a bit of training and a bit o’ luck I'd guess ye might have had yourself a good chance at a placing horse. As it is, wi’ having thrown to the dam and the leg that's no’ right I wouldnae like to make a prediction about his future. Its a pity. He’s got a nice head and sharp eyes. Wi’ a different market and a better leg ye might have had yourself a nice investment.”

“So, he’s not perfect. Few of us are. Will you train him?”

Jamie stepped away from the horse and half turned towards Claire. “Ye seem a bit more down to earth than some of the owners we get in these parts so I’ll talk plain to ye. Ye’re asking me to stake my professional reputation on a horse with poor conformation.”

“You seemed to like all the rest of him!” Claire protested.

“I’ll thank ye to keep yer voice down around the horses. The thing ye need to understand is, coming in to this industry, thoroughbreds run the constant risk of inbreeding. Its a small pool of blood. There’s over three thousands beasts just in Newmarket alone and thousands more in countless countries around the world and all of them, every single one, is descended from thirty horses here in England a few hundred years ago. Every trainer, every breeder, every person working in the industry has an obligation to see that we do the best by the animals. That means identifying problems early and not letting them run on.”

“You’re concerned his leg is the way it is because of inbreeding?”

“I cannae say for sure. But being a thoroughbred as he is, it would be irresponsible of me to rule it out without a proper medical investigation and equine medicine is not cheap.”

“So you’re turning him down?”

Jamie looked at her with an expression that was apologetic but resolute.

Claire sighed long and hard.

“I am sorry. It gives me no pleasure to say it.”

“Well...” Claire’s mind searched. “What about asking a vet?”

“That would be up to you as the owner.”

Claire shook her head. After the turmoil of the way the night before had ended, she had been hoping for a better day and a fresh start today but it was not going as planned. “If I have his leg looked at and it's sound, would you take him on then?”

“If you have his leg looked at, I’ll even come with you to the hospital, how does that sound?”

“Why would you do that?”

Jamie looked at Claire’s face, the way her tumbledown brown curls framed the amber tones of her eyes. The indignant, intelligent face. She was smart and she was fiery and Jamie liked her already. But ‘ _because I like you’_ would probably earn him a kick in the teeth, he thought with a smile and he’d probably deserve it too. “Most owners look at a problem horse and simply have it put down. You see all these complaints from animal rights folks of injured horses getting put down. The truth is most injured horses aren’t put down because the problem is fatal, they are put down because the animal is no longer commercial. Its the same with any farm or working animal. If your intention was to make a commercial investment,” Jamie shook his head, “I have to tell you you made a bad bet.”

“Actually I...” Claire was about to blurt out the truth and then stopped herself – and then threw caution to the wind. What did it matter anyway. “I did it because my husband hated horses. He would tell me I’m wasting my money – his money. And after years of being belittled by him I can’t bring myself to spend it on anything that might meet with his approval.”

Jamie’s shoulders shook with laughter and descended into guffaws. “Well,” He caught his breath at last. “Far be it for me to judge your intentions, Mrs Beauchamp, but if its about getting rid of some cash a thoroughbred’s vets bill would do it!” Jamie smiled. “Like I said it won’t be cheap but if the vets clear his leg, we’ll talk again after that.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is with a sense of sadness that I have decided it has become necessary to moderate comments on this story. I would like to thank the many, many readers who have been so amazingly supportive of this story and of my writing. However, a tiny minority of overly-negative comments over the last few chapters has brought me to this decision.
> 
> I would like to say once again that the overwhelming majority of you have been absolutely wonderfully supportive and understanding and I thank you for that and that I am aware many people are reading something different to what they are used to for the first time. Thank you for taking a chance on this story.
> 
> Be kind to each other. A little kindness goes a long way.

**Chapter 16**

The colt was packed up by Jamie himself and afterwards he stood at the back of the truck, wondering how John always managed to get along with meeting new people. He found it tricky himself. Animals had always been easier to understand than people for him, but the fact that he found himself constantly battling a desire to stare at the lady didn’t help all that much. “Have Mrs Baird call her vet, they’ll put you in touch with the hospital. Likely they’ll want to do some sort of scan and a few other tests. I’m sure if you ask Mrs Baird will arrange it all but if you do want me to be there, like I said, I would be happy to come along.”

Claire found herself staring at Jamie’s strong chin. The stubble of his beard indicated he was naturally fair.

“Mister Fraser...”

“Jamie,” He corrected.

Claire smiled politely. “Jamie, Mrs Baird said that you were honest and it might not have been what I want to hear but I want you to know that I do appreciate your candour.”

“You’re welcome. Will you be driving back home today, then?”

“I haven’t decided, actually. My car’s over at Mrs Baird’s.”

Jamie nodded, watching Mrs Baird and Murtagh come over. They could see that the meeting was winding up and Jamie shook his head at Murtagh ever so slightly before turning his gaze back to Claire Beuchamp’s amber eyes. Part of him wondered what he was playing at. It was daft, he knew that. He’d just got together with John, and that was complicated enough. But John was off flirting with half of London which meant he couldn’t possibly be bothered by Jamie’s intrigue at his latest visitor. Where was the harm in it? “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a quick tour of the stables while you’re here?”

  


Claire was flattered by his interest. He was tall and lithe and well muscled; handsome with kind eyes and there was something about him that Claire found rather arresting. Still, her experience from the night before lingered over her and Claire decided on balance that it might perhaps be better to leave his offer for another day. “When we come back from the vets, perhaps. So I can see where he’ll be staying.”

Jamie smiled at Claire’s resolute manner. She was strong, confident. Intelligent. Mature. And slightly playful. Claire was exactly the rare sort of human being whose company James soaked up and he smiled as an understanding sparkled between them. With a curt nod, Jamie took a step back. “Til the vets, then.”

Mrs Baird and Claire Beauchamp left the way they had come, rubber tyres crunching all the way down the gravel drive until it was out of sight.

Jamie turned around and walked into his office and leaned his forehead against a wall, Murtagh’s footsteps behind him. “Don’t.” Jamie told him without turning around.

“Ya daft lummock,” Murtagh threw at him. “Show her the stables? And the hay loft as well I suppose? What the hell would John think?”

Jamie could feel Murtagh staring at him. His godfather, loyal to the last, had followed Jamie down to England in pursuit of a career but there were some things that Jamie preferred to keep to himself. He waited until Murtagh was gone and then collapsed in a seat. John? Jamie thought. He could feel John’s joyous laughter from here. John would wrap his arms around Jamie’s waist and tease him for being nervous and missing his chance and likely have a good laugh at his expense. The idea of calling John, of all people, for dating advice was mortifying. No, Jamie decided, it was better to keep this to himself for now. If John asked, he would be honest but nothing had happened and likely nothing would happen. Jamie would just have to admire from afar.

Jamie boiled the kettle for a cup of tea and sat down to paperwork. There was enough there to take his mind well off John Grey and Claire Beauchamp for a while.

  


Another hurdle, Claire thought. But Claire had been hurdling obstacles all her life and her resolution was firm. As soon as she got back to Mrs Baird’s stables and her colt was unloaded, Claire asked Mrs Baird to make the phonecall and before the end of the day the wheels were in motion to have a vet come out and look at the hip and leg. She drove back to London feeling positive once more and with her mind full of can-do spirit still, Claire returned to her flat and took out the rubbish and the horrid waste paper basket with it. She had never liked that thing anyway.

In the morning Claire got up and over a strong cup of tea took the next step to get on with the rest of her life and began looking up medical programmes at London universities. University College London and Imperial College London were both ranked amongst the best in the world and had links to all the major London hospitals. Then of course there were Oxbridge universities, if she would even be accepted. Typically you were only allowed to apply to one or the other. Cambridge was closer. Oxford would we be a bit of a trek although the thought of applying to Cambridge was rather odd after spending half her life in Oxford but Claire found herself researching all the transport options anyway and something struck her as she did so. If her colt ended up training at Newmarket after all, the town of Newmarket was only half an hour from Cambridge by car. Much closer than London.

The fantasy took hold of Claire of moving out of London for good. Away from the expensive London prices, away from the polluted air and the noise and the people. Oh, London had its charms. You could walk the streets of London for weeks and never be bored, it had theatre and arts venues that were the envy of the world but visiting Newmarket had made Claire realise that there was a part of her that yearned for the remembrance of the world of the early years of her childhood. Grass and trees, muddy country walks. Animals and fresh air. Home made soup and old stone-built homes and everything slightly weathered and endearingly worn-in.

If Cambridge was even an option, Claire knew she would probably just sell up and move. There wasn’t much point actually staying in London. Ok, Joe and Gayle were here but Claire had no life here. No job, no social life to speak of. Only with Frank’s passing had the future begun to open up to her and even now, weeks later, she was still learning what that meant.

She could sell the furniture, even. Sell it all off when she moved and start completely afresh. New home, new career, new hobbies, new friends.

A new life.

  


In London, midweek, John found himself a guest at his brother Hal’s club for dinner. It was one of those establishments that only existed in places like London, situated strategically close to halls of power and influence. A quiet, private place where private members – who tended to be male and white – could meet discreetly without prying eyes or listening ears. What happened here stayed here and that was just the way Hal liked it.

“You haven’t been home in getting on for a couple of months now,” Hal chastised him. “You’re due a trip.”

John smiled and nodded. “Of course, Hal. I am sorry.”

“You can’t have been spending all these weekends in London surely? I know for certain one of your horses was racing at Newmarket a few weeks ago.”

“No, I’ve been at Newmarket quite a lot lately, actually,” John smiled. It was a smug, secret smile of the sort that a sibling knew instantly.

“Alright, what’s in Newmarket that’s so interesting. Are you finally sending that mare off to stud?”

“Not the mare, no,” John sipped his wine. “There has been a bit of a development of a personal nature. Its early days and we haven’t really gotten to the point of taking each other to see the family, but...” John’s grin could not be contained any more. “I’m really very happy about it.”

“You do, indeed, seem quite happy, John,” Hal grasped his fine cut crystal wine glass. “And this person you’re mooning over knows you’re cavorting around half of London, I take it?”

“As a matter of fact they do, Hal.”

Hal sipped is wine, quietly.

“You don’t approve,” John paused, his cutlery clutched in his hands.

Hal refrained from meeting his brother’s eye and focused instead on the fine stem of the glass in his hand, turning it this way and that. “John, I know how hard Hector’s death was on you. It was a few years ago now, of course, but we don’t forget these things. I’m just cautious for you, that’s all.”

“I’m sure about this Hal. As sure as I can be about anything. Hector wanted me to be happy. He said so many times. Hal, I always knew that I would love this man. From almost the first moment, when he so despised me, I knew that I would love him for the rest of my life. And so you see it doesn’t change anything on my part that matters have, one might say, developed rather beyond anything I had ever hoped might be the case.”

Hal stared at his brother. If he was reading between the lines correctly, he knew exactly what this was. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am most perfectly serious!” John exclaimed.

“And he just woke up one day and decided he was gay, did he?”

“No,” John told his brother with great patience. “Not that it matters but between you and me our current hypothesis is actually asexual.”

Hal leaned in conspiratorially, “You’re dating an asexual.”

“So it would seem,” John replied.

“I don’t think I even know how that works.”

“It works the same way any other relationship works Hal. With honesty and compromise.”

If Hal looked sceptical that his brother of all people could make a relationship with an asexual who, to the best of Hal’s recollection, his brother had previously described as overtly homophobic then that was because he was, indeed, rather sceptical. He dug into his dinner. “And when will you be returning to Newmarket?”

“As soon as I get out of work on Friday, why?”

Hal gave his brother an appraising look.

“No. Absolutely not. Jamie isn’t ready for that yet.”

“Mister Fraser meets people in his line of work all the time, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Hal said, with a firmness that indicated the matter was settled. “Sunday lunch, shall we say?”

  



	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback.

**Chapter 17**

It had been the end of the week before the hospital could fit in Claire’s colt for a scan. Mrs Baird’s regular vet had been by the stables in the middle of week to give the horse a preliminary examination and further tests at the equine hospital had been booked on Friday with Claire’s approval.

Claire made the now familiar journey up by car but this time there would be no trip to the stables to see Mrs Baird. Mrs Baird’s advice was that to reduce stress to the animal it would be best if she dealt with the horse transport and Claire simply met them at the hospital. Mrs Baird parked up in the designated area and Claire’s colt was unloaded and taken to a special holding area. Jamie pulled up a short while later, making his apologies as the lead vet went over the diagnostic plans.

  


First of all the colt was taken for a walk on the lead rein so that the vets could see him moving and then taken to a training ring with a sand-covered floor to be put through his paces. A physical examination followed and on Claire’s agreement an ultrasound of his hip.

The lead vet had been explaining things as they went, but most of it was lost on Claire and she was relieved after everything was done to see the lead vet came back to them and gave them a run down of where things were at.

“There’s good news and bad news. Bad news is there are a couple of things our examinations have shown up. The good news is, we suspect they can probably be corrected without serious medical intervention, at least at the moment. Your main concerns were the hips and the rear right leg, is that correct?”

Claire looked to Jamie.

“Aye, that’s right.”

“Well as regards the soundness of the leg the good news is there’s no sign of lameness in any of the legs and our main concern is the hips. Obviously we were keen to rule out any sacroilliac problems, although with such a young horse we were hoping for the best there and the ultrasound appears to have given us the all clear on that. It is a difficult area to examine but we’re fairly confident we can rule out any tears or ligament damage. There does however appear to be a lot of tension, particularly on his right side and its causing him to hold his tail at a slight angle. Fortunately with the right training and massage the tension can usually be released.”

“Topline syndrome?”

“Quite. The leg is, as you say, ‘a bit squinty’ but the leg itself appears to be fine. The main issue is going to be keeping an eye on his hips and pelvis to make sure nothing’s going to develop over time.”

“How about the ultrasound?” Jamie pressed.

“The muscles around the lumbosacral joint are under-developed, and its more pronounced on one side which could be the cause of the tension. But there’s nothing to indicate any ligament tears or congenital spine problems. The conformation of the hips is, as you say, not quite correct and its possible that has something to do with the shape of the joint but we can’t be certain without an x-ray and at present the technology doesn’t really exist to x-ray above the stifle joint. Its certainly something to keep an eye on. The good news is, from everything we’ve seen today we’re fairly confident the natural weakness can be corrected with the right training regime of topline strengthening work and a lot of work engaging the lumbrosacral muscles. Plenty of deep massage too. The conformation will likely always be a little off but the topline issues are probably exacerbating the problem. The good news is that none of our tests have flagged up any further underlying issues for now. With the right regime of training and exercise we’d like to rexamine him in a month or two and reassess him then.”

  


The horse was taken out to the trailer and Mrs Baird agreed to take him back to her stables. Claire watched as her horse was loaded up and then went back inside to deal with the paperwork. Jamie hung back, giving Claire space to sign papers and look over the bill. He had promised they would talk again if the vet cleared the horse, and he had every intention of keeping his word.

  


“So,” Claire walked over to him having concluded her business. “My bank balance has taken a bit of a tumble but my horse is in the clear.

“Of a sorts,” Jamie tilted his head in a gesture that indicated an acquiescence, but perhaps a jaded one. “How much did you understand of what was said in there.”

“Enough, I think. I actually studied human medicine for a couple of years but medical students don’t do comparative anatomy like vet students do and I dropped out of uni after marrying Frank. What I do want to know is, what did the vet mean when he talked about a weak topline and what did you know about it?”

“A horse with well developed musculature should have an outline, if you will, along the back that looks just right. Its a bit like core strength in humans. If one thing goes out then before you know it you’ve got a bad back and weak abs. Weak hips lead to knee problems, leading to foot problems. Over-pronation, collapsed arches, all sorts of things in humans can be caused or exacerbated by the way we move and the way we look after ourselves. Or don’t look after ourselves. Horses are just the same. When there are muscles weaknesses or problems in certain areas the topline doesn’t look right, and if you know what you’re looking for it gives you some idea of what the problem is.”

“But if you thought you knew what the problem was, why call the vet in?”

“Because I’m not a vet, I’m a trainer. Vets have equipment and expertise we don’t. They see things we don’t. They can rule things in or out based on current best practice in equine medicine. One of the things about my job, Ms Beauchamp, is learning to know the limits of your own knowledge and skills and when to call on someone else’s.”

Claire nodded. She liked his company, James Fraser. He was patient, and calm. Smart and considerate.

“We’ll need to watch him for sacroilliac problems,” Jamie mused.

“Which I will leave in your very capable hands, if you’ll let me,” Claire turned to him and stopped.

James Fraser was standing staring at her, his eyes twinkling, a hint of a smile at one corner of his mouth.

“What do you say?” Claire pushed.

“You realise I might train your horse every day for years and you might never win anything. “It might all come to nothing. And with him being a yearling I couldn’t even tell you yet what sort of horse he’ll be and we’ll need to do a lot of work with him before we can get to the point where we can figure that out.”

“Is that a yes?”

Jamie looked long and hard at the horse trailer. “He’s not without his problems, and I make no promises...but there’s enough there that looks promising that I’m willing to give him a shot. If you’re quite sure, Ms Beauchamp, its a yes from me.”

“Excellent. Would you care to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” Jamie repeated the word as if it was a strange new concept he wasn’t entirely sure of.

“Its England. There must be a half-decent pub round here, surely?”

  


They went out for a drink. A drink soon turned into lunch. Before Jamie knew it they were wandering along the street, hours having passed.

“Do you find you miss him?” Jamie asked.

“Yes, oddly. In spite of everything.”

“You must have loved him once?”

“Yes,” Claire said simply. She didn’t really want to talk about it. Or about Frank. “So, is there a Mrs Fraser?”

Jamie hesitated. He knew what Claire was asking. She was asking a lot more than the question implied. And he could answer honestly and still tell a lie. Jamie wondered what John would want. He would probably tell Jamie to do what he thought best. “No,” he told Claire.

“That took a long time. Should I not have asked?”

Jamie shook his head, telling Claire it was fine. “I’ll tell you some time.”

They stopped and Jamie looked up, realising they had walked all the way from the town centre to John’s house. The house by the stables was the place he resided for work but John’s house – it was John’s house that had been home to him for a while now. Long before the most recent development of their relationship.

“Well,” Jamie cleared his throat. “This is me. Although I think we’re doing it the wrong way around. Isn’t the gentleman supposed to walk the lady home?”

“I’ll be fine,” Claire insisted. “I can handle myself.”

Jamie smirked and snorted slightly. “Aye, ye can at that. Are ye sure I cannae order you a cab?”

Claire declined the offer but as she walked away she felt the weight of James Mackenzie Fraser’s eyes on her and she found she rather liked it. Claire had that thought in her head all the rest of the evening as she drove back to London that night. Yes, she liked it rather a lot.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research for that technical stuff and then made a stab at it and hoped for the best. If there’s anything glaringly wrong please let me know.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Having gotten to John’s house, Jamie realised he would much rather be here than his own place and as Claire Beauchamp walked down the drive Jamie unlocked the front door and picked up John’s mail and put it on the counter in the kitchen. He made himself a cup of tea, headed upstairs and put on a pair of John’s pyjamas before crawling into John’s bed. Only then did he pick up his phone and send the message he’d been longing to send John all day.

‘ _I miss you.’_

Jamie’s phone rang a moment later.

“This is new,” Were John’s first words.

“Do you mind?”

“No,” John smiled down the phone. “I’ve just spent and interminably long evening having dinner with a ridiculously happy lesbian couple. Trying on the one hand not to mention you and on the other hand, not allowing myself to be set up.”

“Do you not like getting set up then?” Jamie found himself more and more curious about John’s life in London. When they had decided to take a step from friends to something more Jamie had at first told John he wasn’t interested about John’s life in London, that it didn’t matter. Lately he had found himself more and more curious, wanting to know about John’s life and the things that he enjoyed doing that made him tick.

“Not by people I socialise with because then they ask you how it went. They’re not looking for sex, Jamie, they’re looking for a relationship and I already have one I’m perfectly happy with. How did your day go?”

Jamie thought carefully about how to answer. Well, John was all about the honesty, wasn’t he? “The appointment with that colt at the hospital went quite well. They reckon there’s a bit of topline syndrome and we’ll have tae watch out for future sacroilliac problems with that gammy leg but the vet reckons the limb itself is sound. Just a mite squinty.”

“Well that’s good news. Should you be telling me about other people’s horses?”

“Are you planning on telling half the racing world?”

“Of course not,” John chuckled, “And then you came home and decided that you missed me?”

“Then the owner asked me out for a drink,” Jamie corrected.

There was silence down the line.

Jamie cleared his throat. When he spoke again it was quieter. “...and the drink might have turned into dinner.”

“Well the owner must be a miracle worker. Should I be swapping notes on how to get James Mackenzie Fraser to leave the house?”

“Dinna be daft, John.” Jamie found himself smiling anyway. “Do you mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Still a question hung down the line. “What are you doing now?”

“Lying in your bed in your pyjamas hugging your pillow,” Jamie’s chuckle turned into a giggle when John groaned down the line.

“You are going to be the death of me, James Fraser.”

 

The following morning at the workout, Murtagh was less than happy about Jamie leaving him high and dry the day before but, as always, he forgave Jamie for the inconvenience and once more Jamie was reminded with a pang that he did not deserve the loyalty of his parents' best friend.

For himself, Jamie felt newly conflicted. There was a comfort in the regular routine, he found, that did its own part to still the turmoil in his heart. Having spent years engrossed in his work and neglecting anything that had any promise at a long standing relationship, it was only now that Jamie realised how horribly out of his depth he was at navigating these waters. How could he be with John but still feel pulled to other people so. Was that normal? Probably. But knowing John went off scratching his itches in London was quite a different thing to feeling the sort of thing Jamie knew he felt around Claire Beauchamp. Jamie didn’t desire sex with her, at least at the moment. But he did find himself craving her company, wishing they had longer together. Wondering when he could see her next and he also, strangely, found himself missing John at the same time. Wanting to tell John all about her.

Jamie realised another conversation was in order and it was giving him a headache. Did this thing that they had that wasn’t possessive include romantic assignations with other people or just the physical ones? The thought of John going off and having sex with other people didn’t bother him but somehow the thought of John dating other people, of falling for them, of having to share John’s heart with strangers tore at his heart and Jamie realised it was something he had never contemplated before. But there was the quid pro quo. Was Jamie going to be asking for something from John he would be unwilling to give in return?

The routine of the stables took over Jamie’s day. He worked on a number of the horses. Sprint training, swimming, hot walking. He worked with one on a long line. Another he worked on their starts. He spent some time ploughing through paperwork and some time in the tack room finding mundane tasks to complete that would settle his brain until it was late afternoon and the grooms were starting to finish up and Murtagh was getting ready to go and bring in the horses that had spent the day out in the paddock.

Jamie gathered his things and dropped them at his place and then feeling more nervous than usual, he drove over to John’s place and started the dinner. Jamie lit a fire and switched on some lamps and set up the chess set. It was late evening when the front door opened and a weary looking John let himself in. The moment he saw Jamie, however, John's face lit up and he gravitated straight towards Jamie and allowed himself to be enveloped in a hug. Jamie smelled John’s hair and held him a little tighter, hips pressed together.

“God, I missed this,” John muttered. Wondering if his brother wasn’t right and it was astonishing that he missed not-having-sex with Jamie. Although Jamie had been more accommodating on that front than John had expected. “How was your week?”

“I don’t want to talk about work,” Jamie responded. His hands went to John’s shoulder and he took John’s bag and coat and put them down by the door. Then Jamie slid his hand into John’s and pulled him into the house. Dinner was ready and waiting and there was the chess board set up for a game. A long evening with no sex beckoned and, strangely, John found himself looking forward to it. His heart soared at Jamie’s presence, at his strong body and warm hugs. He had craved this – just being in Jamie’s presence. John found he could relax and enjoy Jamie’s company, that this felt like home in a way that the place had never felt before without him there. Strange notions began to take hold of Jamie moving in, although John realised that Jamie would always likely need the place he had by the stables for work and spent much of the rest of his time here anyway. Still, John reminded himself to clear out some closet space and make it available for him.

“What are you thinking?” Jamie asked, “Ye have a look about ye.”

“I was thinking if you’re going to start sleeping here when I’m gone I should probably do the decent thing and clear out one side of the wardrobe for you. You already have a key, and you do my mail.”

“I like it here better than my place,” Jamie replied with honesty. “But you don’t need to do that.”

“I’d like to,” John insisted. Jamie left it at that.

Later, John asked Jamie if the thought of what other people would say worried him.

“I’m not a great stickler for setting standing by the these things that others take like stations of the cross, John. First kiss, third base, moving in. If we do what works for us does it really matter what others think?”

John reached across the table and caught Jamie’s hand. “You ought to know I’m not doing it for others. I’m doing it because I like you being here.”

Jamie turned his hand over in John’s palm. “Aye, alright then.”

And that was that.

 


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

After dinner and desert they moved to the chess board with a bottle of whisky and two glasses. Jamie was surprisingly adept at finding the right alcohol for the moment. John’s wine rack had improved markedly in the time he’d known Jamie and his taste in whisky was no different. Jamie seemed to know names and ages of uisge beo the way other people knew days of the week but rather than treating the drink with pedestal-like reverence, Jamie picked whiskies like anyone else picked varieties of potatoes.

They were a few moves into the game, sitting opposite each other when Jamie raised the matter that had been niggling at his mind all day. “John, can we talk about something?”

“Uh oh. That sounds serious.”

“It sorta has to do with that owner.”

John waited patiently for Jamie to get whatever he was trying to say out of his head. If he didn’t he would just get frustrated and John had seen James Fraser frustrated. That was good for no one.

“If I wanted to see her again, and she wanted to see me. I wondered how you’d feel about that.”

John remained quiet, but looked at Jamie with curiosity. It looked like his boyfriend was going on another voyage of discovery and as with everything else about their relationship, Jamie was learning to cope with all sorts of new ideas that were not part of the hetero-normative upbringing he’d been boxed into.

“Only I realised, I don’t mind ye having sex with other people but I didn’t like the thought of you having romantic, well, feelings, I suppose. Relationships. And we hadnae really talked about that. And here I am, all the same, asking about seeing someone else. But I don’t want to ask something of you I’m not prepared to give myself so I thought we should talk about it.”

John made his next move on the board and took a sip of whisky. He measured his answer carefully. “I think,” John began, “It rather depends who the person is. And how they fit in. We have to acknowledge there isn’t a parity in this relationship, Jamie. You allow me to ‘scratch itches elsewhere’ as you put it because of the way you are. And you’re right, it is rather different if it moves from scratching itches to romantic assignations. That said, you’re already giving me something that you’re not getting in return.”

Jamie slid his bishop diagonally and took one of John’s pawns.

“You like this woman, I think?” John pressed.

Jamie sighed heavily. “Its not that simple. Aye, aye I do like her. But she’s been bereaved recently and I felt like a right cad going out for dinner and not telling you, and not telling her about you.”

“That’s good.”

“Its good I felt bad? That’s a new one.”

“You have a natural predisposition towards honesty, Jamie. In this sort of situation that’s actually a good thing. You lied to her and you felt bad about it.”

“I didn’t lie,” Jamie protested. “Please don’t tell me you mention me to every bloke who gives you wank in London, cause I wouldnae thank ye for it, John.”

A new glimmer appeared in John’s eyes, a hint of a amusement at Jamie’s turn of phrase but more than that, the sensation of one soul knowing another so well and he found himself smiling. “No, I know that, Jamie. I wouldn’t do that to you. But if someone asks for something more, I tell them I have a boyfriend and that usually nips it in the bud.”

Jamie looked slightly uncomfortable at this so John decided it was probably best to round things off and give Jamie time to think. “Why don’t we come to a compromise. You can have your romantic assignation in return for me having my sexual ones but we both abide by the same terms. We are honest with these other people – and each other - about our relationship.” John stared pointedly at Jamie.

“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Frankly, Jamie, its not up to us. It does tug at my heart a little to think that you might go after someone else but as long as you’re happy, I can bear it. What I can’t bear is the thought of you leading someone on thinking you’re free when you’re not.”

John could see Jamie’s eyes changing from resistant to reluctant to persuasion. “Tell her about me. Date her, spend time with her. But do so on the agreement and that we are both open and honest with each other about the state of our relationships with other people when asked. Is that reasonable?”

“You’re saying you might ask how things are coming along, then?” Jamie asked John nervously. He didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand it didn’t seem right to hide things from John. On the other hand sharing details of one romantic assignation with another one struck him as odd. But then, before John he would have twisted himself inside out trying to reconcile his attraction to Claire with his relationship with John and never considered – as John appeared to – that the two did not have to be mutually exclusive.

John cleared his throat and stared pointedly at Jamie like a dam bursting Jamie groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“This is a nightmare. You’re going to want every last detail. I’m dating a man who gossips like an old woman, amn’t I?”

John smiled and squeezed Jamie’s hand but the squeeze had an edge to it, an edge of warning. “Jamie...if it gets to the point of sexual intimacy between you, you tell me, ok?”

They both knew for Jamie what that meant. He wasn’t comfortable being intimate with strangers. Even with John they’d been together for weeks before Jamie had even raised the subject.

Jamie nodded and squeezed John’s hand back. “Aye John. We’re agreed.”

  


They spent the evening playing chess, working their way through a bottle of 12-year-old Glen Ord in front of wood-burning stove in John’s living room and talking about plans for Christmas. Jamie had always returned to Lallybroch with Murtagh for a few days leaving local employees here in Newmarket in charge of the stables. John had invariably spent Christmas at his own family home with Hal. The issue of whose family to go to and when had never been a major issue in Jamie’s life and it didn’t help that Jamie hadn’t really told his sister and brother-in-law about things with John yet. There were too many personal questions that would be asked, too many labels thrown around. Too many I’m-not-homophobic-but things to deal with like dealing with the local priest after midnight mass or who slept in what bedroom or what the local community would say. Jamie knew better than anyone the way that small towns gossiped. Attitudes abounded that Jamie realised he himself had held not so long ago. The law might be moving on but it took longer sometimes to change peoples minds.

“We could stay here ourselves,” Jamie suggested, “But Jenny would ask questions if I didn’t go home.”

“Well why don’t we each plan to go our separate ways at Christmas and spent New Year together?”

“I usually stay for the whole shebang,” Jamie shrugged. “But you could go to London.”

“I think I’d rather stay with you. What if I came north?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you could go north for Christmas and if you feel comfortable telling them about us I could follow in a few days and be there for New Year. I could get the sleeper. Or fly to Inverness if you could pick me up.”

John saw Jamie turning the idea over in his mind.

“I could think about it,” Jamie replied after a while. “Aye, I’ll give it some thought. This is still new to me, John. And I still don’t know how to tell other people.”

“I know that,” John said, not unkindly. “I wouldn’t usually suggest this but if you’d rather, we could just tell them we’re friends.”

Jamie snorted. “Aye, they’d see through that in an instant. I cannae keep my hands off you.”

John stood up and smiled, sliding his hand into Jamie’s where he sat. “I’m sorry to say it doesn’t get any less awkward, but we don’t need to decide right away. I’m tired. Lets sleep on it.”

Jamie allowed himself to be taken to bed and they stripped naked and slid between the covers. It was the end of the week and it was late at night and they were both so tired that they fell asleep in a pile of limbs and slept soundly through the night.

  



	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit has to go to the wonderful videos of Godolphin stables on youtube which I watched shamelessly to get the right facts for this chapter. A bit fact-heavy, sorry, but those who know my writing probably know to expect a bit of that from time to time by now!

 

**Chapter 20**

There was no rest for the wicked in Jamie’s line of work. The horses needed exercised daily even at weekends and he left John, still asleep, to go and oversee the morning workout. By the time he came back John was showered and dressed in a comfortable long-sleeved t-shirt with a fine lambswool sweater over the top that just left a slim line from the white of his crew neck highlighting the dip at the base of John’s neck. To Jamie he looked delicious and inviting and his hand gravitated towards the little spot and then his mouth, making John laugh.

“Ye look all warm and snuggly,” Jamie told him as John shrugged off his antics and offered him coffee. After a coffee and second breakfast, Jamie headed over to his own house for a while to do some paperwork while John tried to get everything in the house in order in case his brother turned up the following day. There was cleaning to do, ingredients to buy. He would need to go to the butcher’s to buy a beef roast, and beef dripping for the roast potatoes. Jamie would have potatoes they could use, and maybe some carrots but he would need some green winter veg and the sprouts were just starting to come into season. He would fry them – seared with plenty of pepper and a little nutmeg.

 

For Jamie, the last races of the season had drawn to a close and while there were still meetings taking place all around the UK they tended to be dominated by jumps races under National Hunt rules. Racing meets had become a favourite past-time for many people off work around New Year’s and from time to time down the years Jamie had been required to work but he preferred to take a few weeks off in the winter to allow himself – and the horses – to rest. Then, as winter turned into early spring the stables started getting ready for the main flat season to launch as the weather warmed.

Scotland had always celebrated Hogmanay with aplomb and New Year just wasn’t the same if he couldn’t stay up til midnight with all his nieces and nephews, sing auld lang syne and consume too much shortbread and whisky. The next day, by tradition, they all ate a monster brunch and trekked away up a hill. But while part of his mind was looking forward to the fresh air and the hills and the familiar sights and sounds of Inverness-shire, there was still work to be done in the mean time.

One of the first things Jamie was keen to sort out was getting Claire Beauchamp’s yearling moved in and settled as soon as possible. Like any stables that kept both fillies and intact males, the intact males and females were kept separately in separate stable blocks. This both avoided any intact males covering in-season females and helped reduce the instance of intact colts and stallions acting out in the hope of breeding rights.

After the winter break, by which point Jamie hoped to have a small group of yearlings to train up, he would begin the process of breaking them in. Every racing stables had their own system of gradually and gently getting the horses used to the process of being ridden. Some trainers would delegate it to another member of staff who oversaw the breaking in of yearlings. Jamie preferred to oversee a lot of it himself. He ran a smaller outfit for a start, with only a few dozen horses while some of the bigger stables could have a hundred or two hundred animals. Murtagh meanwhile oversaw the daily routine of the stables and they had a small staff of riders, grooms and stable hands who helped out and took care of many of the day-to-day tasks that kept the place ticking over. Horses liked routine and with a new horse learning the routine of the stables as soon as possible would help him settle in.

Early in the morning the riders would check on their designated horses, check their temperatures and legs, check the horse’s tack and prepare their feed. There would be an early morning workout at five thirty or six o’clock in the morning then back to the stables for feed. The rest of the daily routine revolved around light activity mixed with feed and rest. Walking. Swimming. Time in the paddock. Long established patterns of working out – walking, trotting and cantering for specific distances or times depending on the age of the horse and the training requirements. In the afternoon they were brought back to the stables and groomed. All the horses were given a full check over and their temperatures taken again to monitor any signs of illness. Any heat or lameness in any legs would be reported, as would any loose shoes or other problems. They would be fed and watered again and housed for the night.

Jamie still couldn’t believe he got to do it for a living. There were many things that, as was often the case in the highlands, he had learned to turn his hand to. He could copy write passably well, he could do a bit of bookkeeping, he wasn’t bad at DIY and he made a respectable pass at more academic subjects. If push came to shove he could have found another way to make a living but there was nothing else in the world for Jamie that compared to spending his days doing this, six days a week. Even when John was in Newmarket for the weekend, Jamie invariably spent a good portion of either Saturday or Sunday across in the stables, often popping over to see John here and there when he could snatch his lunch or a tea break.

With a yearling who had yet to be broken the daily routine was markedly different. There would be no morning workout although some of the other handling would take place once they were settled in order to help them learn the routine. They would spend several hours a day in the paddock, and then gradually bit by bit they would be handled more. Having spent the first year of their lives in a paddock, getting them used to being around humans was the first step. Bit by bit the process would begin of working towards breaking them in. Handling them. Walking them. Then lunging them. Then driving them. Over a series of weeks they would be introduced to a roller and then the tack including a saddle and then a rider flopped across their back. They would be familiarised to the process of a rider mounting them and then when they were ready they would begin to be ridden. Some horses took to it in no time at all. Others took weeks of careful and gentle work. They were high spirited animals and it was always best to do things gradually and avoid distressing them. First they would be ridden inside the ring and only for short periods at a time then outside for longer rides of twenty or thirty minutes and then for longer hacks and work in the training arena as they learned to respond to the bit. They would be introduced to a training track and the workouts that would start to build their muscles as well as getting them used to running at pace around other horses. Just like a human athlete their diet and exercise was carefully tailored to improve performance and build strength and stamina and confidence before finally being introduced to the gallops.

The last stage was to introduce them to the heath in small groups to be ridden across the open grassland around the town of Newmarket where many thoroughbred horses were put through their paces on early mornings. Without the white race rails to follow and other horses to guide them, only then could Jamie see if his hard work had paid off and he had persuaded a horse it wanted to carry a human at forty miles an hour and partner with it, listening to commands and responding to the reins. Jamie didn’t want horses that were startled and terrified. He wanted calm animals that trusted the other horses and humans around them, that were responsive to the reins and relaxed into their stride. Then and only then could Jamie begin to get a feel for a horse’s natural racing talents. The way it moved, the way it thought. A sprinter or a stayer or a middle distance horse.

If Ms Beauchamp’s colt arrived before Christmas it could get settled in over the festive period allowing them to start breaking in the colt in the weeks after new year. In a few months time as the spring weather began to warm, Jamie hoped to have a two year old that was all but ready for racing. Then there was the recruitment. As older horses retired, new horses would need new grooms assigned but a large intake of yearlings would require more members of staff. In a thoroughbred stables, every horse had its own groom and Jamie couldn’t do what he did without his team: his stable manager Murtagh, and dozens of members of staff. Larger stables would have many times that number. All of them loyal and passionate about horses.

Jamie picked up the phone and made a phonecall to Mrs Baird. He thought about calling Ms Beauchamp – Claire she insisted – but figured he’d probably sound like an idiot if he couldn’t stop grinning all the way through the phonecall.

 

In the end however, she called him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a final note, it would be wrong to let this weekend pass without mention of the extraordinary Winx, an Australian mare who retired after her final race today. An amazing horse and an amazing athlete.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Claire had spent the first day of her weekend at Joe and Gayle’s. The kids were keen to spend some time around the fun friend their parents had always talked about, and Claire was happy to be out of the house and have something to do. She had made progress on her university applications, although going back to university after starting some of the course at another institution required a slightly more complex admissions process than was standard. Still, for Claire it was worth it and she had already begun to prepare herself by buying updated versions of the standard coursework books she remembered. Already she felt a lifting of her spirit from the sense of purpose her self-imposed study had given her.

On Saturday morning Joe was standing in the kitchen making his wife pancakes while the couple argued about whether the pancakes in question were American pancakes or Scottish pancakes. The kids were in the living room watching cartoons having gotten back from their Saturday morning school sports meetings and it was amidst the noise and the hubub of the family life around her that Claire’s mobile went off.

“Mrs Baird,” Claire answered the call. “How is my horse?”

Joe and Gayle went silent, clearly listening in.

“Of course, I should have arranged it after the vets cleared him but I seem to have become distracted by other things.” Like the trainer’s company, and his blue eyes, and the way he smiled, or the way the freckles dusted his nose. Or the soft way he spoke around the horses, with care and gentility. With his intelligence of mind and kindness of spirit.

‘ _Oh dear,’_ Claire thought to herself.

“Of course its alright but I’ll maybe call him and speak to Mister Fraser anyway. Can I check that my payment came through to you alright?” Claire paused. “Good...no, I’ll speak to him. Thank you Mrs Baird.” When she hung up she looked at Joe and Gayle somewhat red in the face. “It seems that in amongst all of the fuss at the vets I seem to have forgotten to make the formal arrangements for the horse to be transferred to Mister Fraser’s care. Excuse me for one moment."

Gayle and Joe looked at each other, eyebrows raised as Claire got up and walked out into their back garden to make a phonecall. This got them curious and so Gayle subtly opened the window slightly.

Just to let the steam from the cooking out. Obviously.

In the garden, Claire smiled as she found Mister Fraser’s number in her contacts list and rang him up. Fond memories came to mind of his easy company. The way his very presence put her at ease and yet somehow made her feel like her body was on fire all at the same time. Awake. Alert. Stomach fluttering and damp underwear. Just looking at the specimen of a man made her wet. Frank’s attitude had made Claire feel self conscious about her need for sex, even if he was perfectly happy to pursue the matter any time he wanted it. Now as she rebuilt her life, Claire was determined to do things differently but after the disastrous fling a few nights before, Claire was ready for a gentleman who didn’t suddenly start talking about a significant other six hours and two shags into a good time.

“Fraser Stables, Jamie Fraser speaking.”

“Mister Fraser? Its Claire. Beauchamp.”

“Hello Ms Beauchamp.”

“Claire,” She pressed.

A soft sigh came down the phone and Claire imagined him somehow leaning back in a soft leather office chair. “Claire,” Jamie breathed, rolling the name around his mouth. “How are ye?”

“I’m well. Thank you.”

“Ye got home in one piece, then?”

“I did. Thank you for your company, I had a great night.”

What Claire couldn’t see down the phone was the way Jamie squirmed in his seat, remembering his conversation with John. “Aye, about that. I was sort of thinking about phoning you actually.”

“The colt, I know, I completely forgot to give you and Mrs Baird the ok to make the transfer. And we need to talk about fees.”

“Aye, there’s that too. I’ll email you the paperwork and you can sign off on everything. It’ll cover the invoices as well and you can have your bank set up a transfer or whatever works.”

“Thank you, Jamie. You’ve been very honest and up front. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome.”

That made Claire smile. It was one of the things that made her feel good about this man. She liked him, a lot more than she had any right to at this point in her life. “I was thinking maybe I should take you up on that offer to look around the stables, see where he’ll be staying. What sort of operation you run. Would that be ok?”

“Aye, Claire, you’re welcome any time. Have a look at that paperwork and then when its done I’ll sort everything out with Mrs Baird, is that acceptable to you.”

“Yes.”

“Then we’re agreed,” Jamie smiled. “Actually there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. But it can wait til ye visit, maybe.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Its nothing to be nervous about. More of a personal matter, actually,” Jamie said softly while inside his stomach churned with dread.

“Oh.” Claire’s mind wandered off, wondering what that might mean. She liked Jamie, and she thought hat he liked her but it wasn’t the sort of thing you said over the phone if you could say it in person. Especially with Frank so recently gone. Clearly Jamie’s life was his work but Claire was sure there was a connection there. “Well I’ll be by some time around the beginning of the week then, does that suit?”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, a breath coming out in his voice. “That’ll do nicely.”

 

When Claire hung up she stared at the phone for a long time and then looked out over Joe and Gayle’s beautiful garden. It had the distinct air of winter about it. Longish grass that hadn’t been cut. Shrubbery that had lost its leaves. Seedheads gone uncut. And yet it felt homely and right somehow. A little robin fluttered nearby and settled on the back of a garden chair, singing its beautiful song. Claire had spent most of her life being used to her own company, but it wasn’t until meeting Jamie… No, Claire realised. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t until meeting that lovely one night stand who turned out to have a boyfriend that Claire began to understand the difference between being alone and being lonely. The way her heart had sunk, torn and painful as he looked at her _kindly_. Somehow his attempts at kindness had only hurt all the more. Couldn’t he just be an ass about it? And then meeting Jamie so shortly after....Claire had felt that warm sensation in her belly again. Had felt her heart lift and her spirits soar. Her face lightened, her eyes smiled. She felt physically _better_ just being around him.

Idly Claire wondered what would have happened if the mysterious John had turned out to be single. John. Was that even his name? It was probably a fake name after all, Claire mused. Would she still be interested in John if he was single after meeting Jamie? Would she still be interested in Jamie if not for John’s rejection? Was she just lonely and in want of company?

“You’re thinking too much,” A deep American drawl startled her out of her thoughts and she jumped at the sight of Joe standing at his back door watching her. He slid his hands into his pockets and took a step forwards. “You know, one thing they say about horses is that the smart ones don’t like being alone. The smart ones need company or they start going a little crazy. And even those of us who like our own company and like time to ourselves need a little bit of that too sometimes.”

“I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t owe me an apology,” Joe insisted. “I think going back to Medical School is a good idea and like I said, I will help in any way I can. Supporting statement, signing forms, recommendations, whatever it takes. You were top of the class! I know you liked Frank but I never did work out why you left.”

“Its complicated.”

“That’s what you said before,” Joe reminded her. “This time I think you need to do what’s right for you. Look after yourself first. Get a cat, join a knitting club. Go running. Hell, volunteer. Do something that doesn’t involve sitting indoors thinking too much about things that are in the past that nobody can change.”

Claire nodded and smiled but it wasn’t a smile that reached her eyes. “I will.”

Joe watched her for a long moment and then nodded. “When you’re ready, there’s more pancakes.”

A laugh broke out of her and it seemed to break the strained feeling in her chest. Claire had the rest of her life ahead of her. There was no need to rush into anything.

 


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to other commitments it wasn't possible to update last weekend so thank you for your patience in waiting for the next chapter.

**Chapter 22**

When Jamie got in from the stables that afternoon once all the horses were bedded – and Murtagh had chucked him off his own property with firm orders not to even think about showing his face tomorrow – Jamie headed over to John’s house and was not at all surprised to find the man had cooked dinner.

John had cooked a moderately-hot vegetarian curry with roti, a spiced potato and spinach side dish as well as cucumber and mint raita. Jamie gobbled it up in spades and them moaned deliciously when he felt full and satisfied.

“How did you know that was exactly what I needed?”

“Secret psychic powers,” John said with a straight face the held for all of three seconds and they both laughed together, giggling over the leftovers. “No, we’re having lamb for Sunday lunch and I thought we could probably use something lighter on the stomach and a little different to a heavy Sunday roast.”

“Sunday roast as well?” Jamie chortled. “What’s the occasion?”

John went a little still and a little quiet in a way that told Jamie his attempt at a joke had fallen like a lead balloon.

“Is this the bit where I forget some sort of anniversary?” Jamie asked carefully.

“No, its the bit where I tell you we can expect visitors on Sunday.”

“We?” Jamie shook his head, “You mean you have visitors on Sunday.”

“My brother Hal,” John picked up his wine glass and took a sip. “He intends to visit whether you like it or not and he intends to meet you whether you like it or not.”

Jamie was vaguely aware of Hal’s existence but Jamie had never supposed he would actually meet the man. It hadn’t occurred to Jamie that their awkward little still-working-this-out thing was really that serious.

John toyed with the wine glass in his hand, turning the stem. “It was Hal who negotiated with the insurgents for the return of Hector’s body in Iraq. I know that talking of feelings is not something that always comes to you with a great deal of ease, but naturally he is curious about the person who would inspire me to settle down once more. And so if you can, I would ask you to bear it. For my sake.”

Jamie was left slightly at a loss. John almost never spoke of Hector. They had been engaged, intending to enter a civil partnership when Hector had died in combat. The ceremony that had been planned for Hector’s return had never happened. Jamie knew about Hector because John had mentioned it from time to time over their long friendship, but it hit him now that for John this relationship had an added dimension. Jamie did the only thing that he could think of, he reached out across the table and he took John’s hand.

“Of course. Ye need only ask.”

“Thank you, Jamie.”

The conversation subsided while they took the dishes to the dishwasher and then John suggested that they skip the chess game and instead build a blanket fort. Jamie didn’t know what a blanket fort was however, and so John insisted all the more that that had to be remedied immediately.

  


An hour later they were lying on a pile of cushions on John’s living room floor, a spare bedsheet draped between two dining chairs with other assorted household items such as clothes pegs, pillows and towels pilfered for the purpose.

"I can't believe you never made a blanket fort!" John exclaimed.

"They're not really a thing in Scotland," Jamie shrugged. "I can see the attraction though."

“I used to love making blanket forts. I wasn’t allowed to make them at boarding school and I spent some years being looked after by a morally upstanding and terribly dull Presbyterian couple while Hal was away. It was always one of the joys of going home, that I could be myself there.”

Jamie could admit he liked the thing rather more than anyone had a right to like a pile of cushions and a bedsheet on a living room floor. Or maybe he just liked the idea of making a wee nest and snuggling in with John. One hand played with John’s hair. He had it cut short, in a very sharp cut that fell apart rather when he wasn’t using his hair products at the weekends. “Has he always known you’re...queer.”

“Oh, very good Fraser. I see the vocabulary is improving and all my hard work is coming to something,” John grinned at his boyfriend, enjoying the roll of Jamie’s eyes entirely too much. John watched him for a long moment. He suspected that for Jamie the fact that he was dating someone who was male seemed to have shifted from enduring the discomfort of his own internalised homophobia to something that Jamie preferred to think of as entirely incidental. John wasn’t ever sure he would get Jamie to the point of singing and dancing in the street about a same-sex relationship, but it was an improvement nonetheless.

“We’ve never really talked about it in the way that some people have to, coming out and all that, but I think it was rather obvious from the way I went on about Hector all the time. Eventually Hal said I should invite Hector home. And that was that. And he knows all about London. He was rather surprised you didn’t have a problem with it. The reality that so many gay relationships are open is a bit lost on Hal. He worries, you know? But I suppose he’s always been part brother part father.”

They were quiet for a while. In the background the fire crackled. Jamie wondered if he should set up for Christmas when John was at work this week, now they were into December. He wondered too about John’s new found openness. He hadn’t really talked of Hector much since their relationship had developed beyond the friendship they had shared before for so many years.

“John,” Jamie cleared his throat and thought carefully his words, “About Hector. I want you to know that you can talk about him. You must miss him very much and I do know that you loved before. We don’t forget those who are lost to us. You miss them, you talk to them. You feel them watching over you, sometimes.”

“Thank you, Jamie.” John knew for sure that Hector was watching over his new relationship. He wasn’t at all sure just yet of mentioning that to Jamie just yet but he squeezed Jamie’s hand back in thanks.

The moment lingered and then passed, and Jamie took in a deep breath eager to move the conversation from becoming too maudlin and melancholy. “So, ye’ll be wanting my help in the kitchen then?”

“You can be in charge of the kettle,” John said, moving the conversation back to the subject of Sunday lunch.

“Oh, come on! I’m not that bad.”

John fell apart laughing at the outrage on Jamie’s face. “Oh, alright. You can help.”

Jamie smiled. “I do like it being just the two of us but I guess we have to start letting the outside world in eventually.”

“I went to the butcher’s for goose fat specially for the roast potatoes. They are going to be the most magnificent roast potatoes you have ever eaten. I promise.”

“That’s tough talk, Grey,” Jamie squeezed John and pressed himself a little closer. John made no response. They kept tailing off into silence tonight, just happy to be in each others company.

“You know I did have something I wanted to ask you?”

“Oh?”

“I was going to wait, but since Hal might bring it up...there’s a work function. Christmas thing. Vaguely formal, lots of important people in suits. That sort of thing.”

“Ambassadors, diplomats, civil servants, royalty...” Jamie added, knowing exactly the sorts of circles that John’s family moved in. It was a world he knew about, to a degree. Had his family’s history been different after the infamous aftermath of Culloden all those centuries ago, Jamie might have been born a noble. From what Jamie knew of his ancestors, they had been high ranking tacksmen connected with a number of clan chiefs through blood, marriage and association. In the years after Culloden when the intent of the authorities in pursing the social and economic reforms became apparent, and the clan jurisdictions dismantled, most of the tacksmen wholescale upped and left as the whole clan system of the Gaeltacht fell apart. Many of them upped and left the country entirely. Educated enough, Jamie supposed, to see what was coming and with means enough to do something about it. Jamie’s family had stayed in Scotland but left behind any pretence of moving in the orbits of power. Instead of paying rent to the Clan Chief they managed to secure some of their own land under the new regime and had been farming the family farm in Inverness-shire for generations since. Too big to be called a croft, too small to be much in the way of commercially viable since the farming reforms of the twentieth century, Lallybroch kept afloat these days by diversifying.

Jamie wasn’t sorry the cards had fallen in a way that made him all but ordinary. But he also knew that there would be people in these circles who talked about the eighteenth century as if it was last week. Some of them thought like it too. Men who would look on what his family had ‘lost’ in status with a hint of sneer.

It was a hell of a lot less than many highlanders had lost over the last two hundred years.

  



	24. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to extend a note of thanks to you all for your wonderful patience. I was really run down and needed a bit of well earned rest. Keeping to a posting schedule with a long multi-chapter story is mentally draining as anyone who has done it will tell you and your patience and good will means so much. Thank you. And on that note, because I missed a couple of updates over the last month, today I've done a double update. Enjoy!

**Chapter 23**

“Hal will probably ask if you’re coming as my plus one, so I suppose I should ask before he does,” John continued.

“I see,” Jamie replied neutrally. “And do ye want me to come or are ye just asking to be polite?”

“I realise its a late night and you’re not exactly wild about late nights with having regular four o’clock starts, but, yes. If I have the choice about it, I’d like to show you off. Will you think about it?”

Jamie noticed how John wasn’t pressing him for an answer straight away. John knew him too well – Jamie needed time to turn things over in his mind. “Aye,” Jamie agreed. “I’ll think about it.”

The snuggling turned into handsy groping. Jamie started it, a hand fondling John’s belly and teasing at the waist line of his trousers. Lips nibbling at John’s ear and then his neck as John turned the tables and began experimenting with how much Jamie’s asexual sensibilities would tolerate. Jamie never had adequately explained the point at which snuggling turned to heavy petting anyway. For what it was worth, John enjoyed the novelty of Jamie taking the initiative. Clearly Jamie wasn’t exactly repulsed by sex, but he often didn’t feel like it, or was neutral to it. Other times he was willing to take that step but only after hours of talking and hanging out.

Learning Jamie’s unique requirements for personal intimacy had been something of a learning curve for John. All his previous relationships had started out with sex and spending time together was something that began to happen after you had hit it off in the bedroom. Tonight John’s arousal grew as Jamie’s hands explored his body, creeping under John’s top and enjoying the lithe torso that John tried to keep fairly toned. Internally John had begun contemplating the merits of going to the bathroom, coming in his clothes or asking Jamie for some light relief when, at length, Jamie’s hand skirted over his fly.

“Oh thank fuck!” John exclaimed.

Jamie chuckled darkly. “Like that, is it?”

“God, yes.”

It was one of the things that Jamie was more comfortable with and practiced hands unbuckled John’s belt and unzipped his fly. Underneath he was wearing the same boxer briefs he always wore and Jamie’s hand slid inside, fondling John and eliciting a loud groan as John turned and pressed his forehead into Jamie’s shoulder. Reciprocally, John’s hands slid down Jamie’s front to cup him. Watching Jamie carefully, John waited for a small nod before undoing Jamie’s own trousers and pushing them down.

They lay pressed together, half clothed and hidden by the shelter of the blanket fort. John’s hand on Jamie; Jamie’s hand on John. It was nothing long and drawn out, it was a desperate flurry of panting breaths and wanking each other off. Afterwards they lay together, half dressed, and contemplated the merits of lying where they were and never getting up or dragging themselves upstairs to bed. For some reason Jamie’s mind went to Claire Beauchamp. He wondered about John’s agreement that Jamie could date her and the wisdom of his decision to tell her about his current personal circumstances when she next came to visit. Jamie liked the thought of spending more time with her, talking with her, getting to know her. It wasn’t the time of year for long country walks but maybe on a nice day they could take an amble across the heath. Would she agree to visit here? To sit by John’s fire and talk late into the night. Claire could sleep in the guest room. He wondered what her preferences were. If she would want sex and how he would deal with that if she asked. He wondered if she would get along with John.

Jamie turned to look at the man next to him. John did say he liked women, after all. Maybe John and Claire would want to...

“What are you thinking about?” John interrupted.

Something must have shown on his face. Lying here Jamie could feel the heat rushing to his head to match the red colour of his hair. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” John teased and then shuffled down into the pillow pile. “Mmm. That was nice.”

“Was this all an effort to get me to give you a hand job?” Jamie queried.

“Did it work?” John asked mildly.

“Maybe.” A small smile. Jamie leaned over and kissed John on the lips.

“And now that I’ve exhausted your sex quota for the next three weeks,” John joked, “I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“That there might be a way for me to get my rocks off when you’re not feeling like it, and satisfy us both.”

“And what way is that?”

John curled into Jamie’s body. “The toybox. You pick something for me to use. Either your or I use it on me. Then I dress and we go about our evening as normal.”

Jamie hummed as he thought about this. “And what happens to the toy?”

“The toy stays where its put until you – or I – decide to do something about it.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.”

John laughed out loud. “That’s sort of the point, Jamie.”

“If its about getting your rocks off isn’t it easier just to go for a wank?”

John sighed and sat up, pulling himself out of Jamie’s arms. “Sex isn’t just about orgasm its about physical pleasure. Its about fun, its about enjoyment. There’s a sense of anticipation. A...frisson. It involves arousal, without the promise of immediate relief and doing that around someone else, or with the involvement of someone else gives them power over you. Some people enjoy that power, some people find giving up that power liberating, but it has to be done with the agreement and consent of both parties. It requires trust, immense trust in your partner. That they will do right by you.”

For almost the first time since Jamie had known John, John looked slightly vulnerable to Jamie and it occurred to Jamie that John was probably taking something of a personal risk opening up to him like this. Jamie had never had much experience around the gay community. His life experience had been very heteronormative and he still struggled to get his head – and his attitude – around some of the ideas that John seemed to accept as perfectly normal for people like them. Jamie wasn’t quite sure what to think, but part of him suspected he might get to like what John was suggesting. The dynamic, the play of power and dominance that was different from the straight intercourse-and-orgasm that Jamie associated with intimacy.

Beside him, John waited for Jamie’s answer.

“This is something you do in London?” Jamie asked carefully.

John paused, nervously. “No, Jamie. Its not something I do in London.”

Confusion crossed Jamie’s face. All the sexual experiences John ever talked about had all involved his escapades in London.

John watched carefully, tentative still that Jamie’s homophobia might flare up. “Actually, it’s something that Hector and I used to do together.”

“With other people though?”

“No,” John said quietly, “Just with each other.”

Jamie sat up and exhaled slightly. He glanced at John and then got up and left the blanket fort. John gave it a few seconds and then followed, finding Jamie standing staring into space a few feet away. “And this is something ye want to do wi’ me?”

John gave Jamie a vulnerable attempt at a smile. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know why you put up with me, John,” Jamie pulled his partner into a full-body bear hug and squashed him tightly in his arms. “But I am infinitely grateful that ye do,” Jamie closed his eyes, pulling John to him, breathing in the smell of his shampoo and sweat.

  



	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

When Sunday came around Jamie looked nervous. He’d gone over to his place to change and check on the stables and had come back dressed for church.

John shook his head, laughing. “You look like you’re trussed up to play an organ. Take that tie off!”

Jamie let John peel off the tie and tweed jacket he had put on. After a moment of staring at Jamie, John declared the waistcoat could stay but pulled it in a little at the back.

“Tailored?”

“I have a few good items from Savile Row for keeping up appearances,” Jamie shrugged. “And the kilt stuff as well.”

“You have a kilt?”

“Of course I have a kilt,” Jamie unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll his sleeves up in the neat, military way his father had once taught him. Pull the cuff up above the elbow, fold the remainder in thirds.

“I can’t believe this,” John shook his head. He had been up early and was already well prepared. The roast was in the oven, the timings for the potatoes and gravy were all worked out. John paid a cleaning service to come around mid-week when he wasn’t here but he would make some last minute checks and set the table while Jamie prepared the vegetables. When that was done the roast would come out to rest, the potatoes and root veg would go in and the greens would be seared at the last minute after the gravy was done. “You have a kilt and you didn’t tell me.”

“You know fine well I have a kilt,” Jamie insisted. “I wore it for that weekend in Ayr.”

It had been over a year ago. Over a number of weeks, Lady of Lallybroch had done some travelling for flat races around the country. Ayr had been but one stop. Doncaster another. It had been the only time John had ever seen Jamie in a kilt and he’d spent most of their time together that weekend trying not to drool all over him while Jamie gave him concerning looks and asked John if he was ok. “I thought it was a hire. I didn’t realise you had one lurking in the closet. Tell me you’re going to wear it to the awful Christmas function. I might actually get through it in one piece.”

“If you can keep your hands above the table,” Jamie smiled.

John looked at him, the tailored line of the waistcoat and shirt, the red riot of hair. The strong forearms expertly peeling potatoes and carrots. John jerked his head towards the sink. “You look like you’ve been doing that all your life.”

“I suppose I have, in one way or another. Jenny always had me and William doing the tatties,” Jamie grinned, a childhood memory of Lallybroch coming to mind. “We complained about it no end. Scrubbing tatties. Peeling tatties. Picking tatties.”

John noticed that when Jamie shook his head the hair that was growing out a bit shook like a model in a shampoo advert. Feeling more certain than usual about them after last night, John reached out and touched the favoured locks. “Please don’t cut this.”

“My hair? Aye, it is getting a bit long now you mention it.”

“I like it.”

“Ye do?”

“Well,” John was standing too close. Their breath mixing. Their bodies bumping. “It is your hair. But just to air my opinion.”

“But it goes all curly when its long,” Jamie screwed his face up. “And I look like a girl.”

“Jamie, you’ve never struck me as someone who thinks less of anyone because of their gender. In fact, as I recall, you’ve been rather proud of Lady of Lallybroch standing up against all those colts and geldings and showing them a female horse is just as good as a male one. Why on earth you’d give such thoughts a moments notice is completely beyond me.”

Standing at the kitchen sink Jamie seemed to shrink, slightly. “I suppose, these notions are put into our heads when we’re young. And we carry them with us the rest of our lives.” Another clean white potato was finished and dispensed into a bowl of cold water. “Its difficult to shake yourself of such notions when they’re part of the furniture.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

“I’ve got to tell ye John, meeting Hal makes it all seem so serious. I’m bricking it about you coming to Lallybroch at New Year. I do want ye there but small towns can be...well I’m sure you’d know.”

“I do.”

“And do ye find ye struggle with that?”

John could tell by the tense set of Jamie’s shoulders that it was a loaded question. Jamie was conscientiously going about the peeling of the potatoes but John knew Jamie too well.

“Most people our age, gay or straight, were brought up thinking the worst thing in the world you could possibly be was a faggot. Eventually, when the world tells you how awful you are for long enough, you do find a part of you starts to believe it. It takes a long time, to value your self worth when the world makes you think that everything about you is wrong.” From the way Jamie stilled and put the potatoes peeler down, John could tell that he had Jamie’s attention. “And sometimes,” John continued even though his voice was shaking. “Sometimes its hard to value the love that you feel, that you know is real when the world has made you feel it is wrong or so _less than_ and you internalise that. Even though you know, logically, its not true. You have to remind yourself,” John said, looking straight into Jamie’s eyes. “That your love is not less than at all.”

Jamie dried his hands on a tea towel and slid his hands into John’s and squeezed them in silent support. Eyes locked, they drank each other in in a shared moment of understanding.

“Hector would have liked you very much,” John said quietly, and then his lip wobbled and his eyes welled up and John felt Jamie’s hand cup the back of his neck and pull him into his embrace and they stayed like that until the doorbell rang and Jamie pulled back and promised John he would get it to give John a moment to clean up his face. As he walked out of the kitchen Jamie cracked a joke and John’s shoulders shook in laughter through the tears as he grabbed for the paper kitchen roll to dab at his eyes.

  


The man at the door when Jamie opened it was the image of John, ten years older. Whereas Jamie and his sister were so different most people couldn’t even tell they were related, John and his brother Hal Grey were like peas in a pod.

“You must be Jamie,” Were Hal’s first words. “Hal Grey.”

  



	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

“Pleased to meet you,” Jamie stuck out a hand and they shared a firm handshake before Jamie stepped back and invited Hal in. Courtesy required Hal make the motion of cleaning his shoes on the rug, even though both the path outside and the shoes were completely clear of any dirt. Jamie ducked his head to hide a smile and took Hal’s winter overcoat and hung it on a hanger in the hall cupboard while Hal stood there taking Jamie in and clutching a bottle of wine.

“John’s in the kitchen,” Jamie said, “I’m sure you know the way.”

  


  


When Jamie walked into the kitchen a few moments later, he was preternaturally conscious of Hal Grey’s observation of his every move and motion. It reminded Jamie rather of the way an expert watched a new horse. Their conformation, the smoothness of their carriage. Whether their breathing was good and their eyes were sharp. Jamie felt on show and it was a feeling he didn’t enjoy but he would do this, for John.

“Everything alright?” Hal looked from one to the other. Nothing was lost on Hal. John’s eyes were still swollen and red.

“You know….” John started.

“I made him cry,” Jamie interrupted. “Sorry.”

“Scoundrel,” John muttered. The words were soft, and full of kindness and Jamie lay and hand briefly against John’s shoulder in a familiar gesture of support.

“You catch up with Hal while I finish the potatoes.”

John turned his head and his lips caught Jamie’s skin as he moved his hand away. Jamie paused, and then smiled softly. “I’ll let ye get some time in together before he interrogates me,” Jamie said with a quip in his voice.

John laughed as Jamie went off to his task and John turned his attention on his brother who had been standing, watching them interact.

John had always known he was someone whose face gave away a great deal. Hal on the other hand had a face that was deliberately impassive. Only if you knew him could you tell by the slightest twitch of muscle or the humour in his eyes what he was thinking. John was relieved to see that he was quietly impressed and he let out an exhale of tension.

So Jamie peeled potatoes while John and Hal gossiped about work and family and diplomatic appointments and civil service things muttered quietly with the radio turned up.

“No, he hasn’t,” Jamie heard John say, turning the radio off.

“Shouldn’t he?”

“Why? We don’t really talk about work. Besides, it isn’t really my decision.”

“He hasn’t what?” Jamie spoke up. He glanced at John and Hal and put the last clean potato into the cold water. They would go into the pressure cooker to par-boil before John put them in the oven to roast coated in beef dripping to make them extra golden brown and crispy. Jamie wondered what they were talking about.

“Sorry, Jamie,” John said with an apology in his tone, “That was badly done.”

Jamie looked at John, who clearly felt awkward, torn between his brother and his partner. Jamie wondered if Hal had set that up deliberately. “I know very well there are things he can’t talk about. So I don’t ask. It isn’t fair to put someone you love in that position.” Ever practical, Jamie continued his work draining the sink and getting rid of the potato peelings into the compost. “And if John needs my counsel he’ll ask for it.” When he did turn around and meet Hal’s gaze it was with a fierce, firm look of defiance.

Hal gave Jamie a small nod, and a smile. “Of course, no offence intended. I just tend to find some people don’t like secrets. Or aren’t very good at them.”

“Well, John’ll be the first to tell you I’m no stranger to secrets,” Jamie replied cryptically. “Its lies I have a problem with.”

Hal kept Jamie’s eye for a long moment and then gave Jamie a small nod and looked away.

John cleared his throat. “Well, if you two are done I’ll put the roasties on to boil.”

  


They stood around drinking wine out of nice glasses as the potatoes went in, the lamb came out, and the green veg was prepared. The plates were put on to warm and the gravy was made. John took the lead, occasionally directing Jamie or Hal to help when required.

On a personal level, it was as awkward as Jamie expected it to be. Meeting someone who knew John intimately, but so very differently from how Jamie knew the same man and yet Jamie and Hal not knowing each other at all. Of course, John had spoken about Hal from time to time to him and Jamie imagined that he had been mentioned to Hal. However, only now after they had started dating did Hal initiate a meeting. Jamie knew that he wouldn’t have done such a thing as to go out of his way to meet the man. Not only did he feel no inclination to do so, he was not about to go barging into the life of someone of the import of Hal Grey without an invitation. A man who moved in the discreet circles around cabinet and royalty and military power, hidden behind courtesy and lounge suits and private school learned decorum.

They talked of gossip in London that fell on deaf ears to Jamie. They talked of the goings on at the family estate and which servants had left and the gardeners problems with the weather and an hilarious anecdote about John as a child that made Jamie think of his departed siblings. Sitting there watching them together he suddenly missed Jenny terribly. It had been far too long since he’d been to the family graves, as well. Jamie missed the smell of the air up there, the grandeur of the old scots pine trees. The very stones of the place. The visceral nature of childhood memories called to the fore contrasting with the warmth and the family of the present around him. Quietly, Jamie went about helping John serve and then Jamie sat quietly, watching as John and Hal talked endlessly.

And yet, all the time, Hal seemed to have one eye on him.

“I’m told the new production of Pirates of Penzance is exceptionally funny,” Hal waved a fork around for emphasis, the conversation having moved on to London theatre.

Jamie had forgotten John liked the theatre. They should go. While the off season was here, Jamie should make the effort to take him. “We could go when we go to London for that work Do you mentioned, if you like.”

Hal’s fork paused, and then lowered. His eyes, which had touched on wary all night when aimed at Jamie softened markedly and he stared long and hard at the Scot in their midst.

“John’s asked you to the Christmas ball?”

“Aye he mentioned it,” Jamie smirked, “Says I’m only allowed to come if I wear my kilt.”

“I said no such thing!” John protested. “I can’t take you anywhere!”

“Not for lack of trying on your part, to be fair,” Jamie grinned. John’s eyes narrowed. Oh, Jamie was on sharp form tonight.

Hal turned to his dinner. It was a relief to see John happy again, and yet the circumstances made him anxious. “You should be prepared for a lot of talk, Jamie. There have been rumours for a while, of course, about your relationship. I don’t think anyone realises its that serious.”

“Hal...” John started.

“No, John, you’ve made a very public point of having no semblance of a steady relationship since Hector died. The occasional gossip about your sex life notwithstanding. We should make it clear we have a united front on this.”

“What does that mean?” Jamie pressed. “Ye make it sound like some treacherous aristocracy ball of years gone by. Should we bring our swords and our duelling pistols?”

“Sadly, only swords carried for official uniform purposes are permitted,” Hal replied dryly, “But there are a number of points to bear in mind. We are an old family of standin. That matters. In our work, John and I are both required to be politically neutral but John’s gay, I’m his brother and you’re his lover. You’re Scottish so you’ll be asked if you have a view on independence, even if you haven’t lived there in years in any significant capacity.”

“I’m for independence,” Jamie set his glass down. “But so are many people. You’re trying to tell me discretion is the better part of valour.”

Hal nodded discreetly.

“That’s alright then. I work in horse racing. I spend my life kissing rich people’s arses.”

John got a twinkle in his eye that soon became a strangled laugh that turned into a cough.

Jamie rolled his eyes, “Ye ken fine ah didnae mean it like that.” He was surprised to see that Hal, too, laughed although Hal looked like he was laughing more at his little brother than at the inadvertent allusion to anal rimming. The laughter broke the tension and from then on Hal seemed to warm to Jamie greatly. After main course and the dessert John had bought and put in the fridge, they retired to the living room with more drinks to sit and let the food settle. John sat himself next to Jamie on the sofa, thighs pressed together and one hand on Jamie’s knee, possessively.

 

Talk turned to Lady of Lallybroch and Jamie mentioned going over to the stables. “I’d like to check on things anyway,” Jamie said, “Even on a Sunday. I’ll be no more than an hour.”

John declared that he could use a walk and Hal seemed happy to do whatever his brother wanted. Fortunately Jamie had had the sense to forgo alcohol over lunch knowing he might well drive home at some point, and so he drove the Land Rover over to the stables with Hal in the passenger seat and John in the back. Jamie explained to Hal the modest size of his operations, the basics of training. The success of Lady.

By the time Hal headed off home at around four o’clock Jamie was convinced they had come to some sort of neutral acceptance and he watched the positive body language from Hal as John walked his brother out to the car. There was an approving nod from Hal, an open stance, a handshake and a hug. John looked humbled, relieved and grateful and he stood out in the cold until Hal’s lights were out of sight.


	27. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you for your patience with this story. I know updates have been a bit more irregular than would be idea of late but I'm sure you all understand that real life has to take priority. Thank you once again for your support and happy reading.

**Chapter 26**

That night they played chess and drank scotch and went to bed late, naked and pressed up against each other under the covers. In the morning, for the first time since this had started, Jamie didn’t want John to go and John waited until Jamie came back from the morning workout to leave, meeting him at the doorstep of Jamie’s own home to kiss him long and hard in front of half the staff before driving to London. They got a few wolf whistles, and a few cheers. But Jamie’s favourite thing was the joy in John’s eyes that Jamie was happy being open.

It was with lips swollen with kisses that Jamie’s employees dispersed towards breakfast and Mrs Baird’s horsebox drove into the yard, passing John at the gate. Behind it was another car that parked behind the horsebox and a familiar figure emerged.

Jamie’s stomach – already in a delicate state from John’s dramatic departure – flipped. His heart lurched. His trousers tightened. Was it just seeing her so close in time to John that made his chest ache with longing? Jamie’s eyes drank her in, the warm amber of her eyes. The brown rivulets of her hair. The body that was just soft enough to make Jamie want to hold her close.

“Mister Fraser,” Mrs Baird hopped out of the front of the horsebox. “Is this a bad time?”

Beside Jamie, Murtagh cleared his throat noisily.

“A bad time? No, not at all.” Jamie’s eye gravitated towards Ms Beauchamp. “Claire, I hope you’re well?”

“Yes, very well, thank you.”

Jamie stared at her for a moment too long, which seem to amuse the woman herself. Jamie had a feeling Claire was too smart by half and Jamie wasn’t sure how he felt about all that mental acuity focused on him. Especially in light of what he had been planning to say to her today when she arrived. He had not anticipated Claire’s arrival would be just quite so soon, however. The kiss of John’s lips still pressed to his own. The warmth of his palm on his waist. The hook of a finger through a belt loop the last thing John had let go.

Jamie missed him already; Jamie wanted Claire here. He didn’t know how to do this and he was bricking it, and so he pulled himself up and put on his game face and went to see to the horse. It was the third time he had seen the colt and each time he did Jamie’s eyes saw the same thing. The colt was small, his topline weak. His front shoulders looked strong enough, his back leg squinty. But as he came out of the trailer on Mrs Baird’s lead today the colt looked at Jamie in recognition and defiance, bright eyes shining as if to say, ‘I told you!’ and Jamie’s head tilted slightly, staring right back.

“What?”

The voice was Claire’s wondering at this strange stand off between human and horse. Jamie kept the horse’s gaze a moment longer and then broke off. In doing so, he felt like he had left part of his soul behind. The smart ones, the great ones, the champions all had a certain look in their eye. A glimmer of self awareness and intelligence and some other unutterable thing that was sometimes called warmth or strength or defiance.

At a word from Jamie, a stable hand took the lead rein and walked the colt off to the prepared stable. Jamie fell in beside Claire. “Horse stuff,” He replied at last, waving it off. “He’s got a nice head on him, at least.”

“I thought he had nice eyes,” Claire admitted. She would be the first to say she didn’t know much about horses and in hindsight it might have been an idea to engage a bloodstock agent before putting her money down but it was done now and the entire point of this exercise was to have some fun on her own account, bank balance be damned. “Besides, I’m not really in this for the money.”

Jamie knew all too well how the finances of the horse industry worked. Although what the public saw was sport, what those engaged in the industry knew was that the money to be made from racing paled into insignificance compared to the money to be made from breeding good horses. The best bloodlines, raised correctly, with the best conformation. A racing career as a two and three year old was a prerequisite to becoming established as a good stallion or broodmare. Geldings would race for longer, until they were eight or nine years old but even then they would often live for years after retirement. If they found a good home. And there were always those that didn’t.

Racing horses was an expensive business. Raising horses was an expensive business. Too. A horse wouldn’t race until it was two years old and that meant two years of paying the eye watering overheads of livery, food, training, tack, and everything required. Then if the horse was good enough to race there were registration fees, professionals fees, accountants, name registration, silks to pay for. Jockeys, management, all manner of things to consider. For many wealthy people, you lost money involved in racing. Horses were something they invested in for fun, that they were willing to lose money on them because of a passion. For others looking to keep their heads above water it was not unusual for a single horse’s success to be the thing that kept afloat an entire stables. All of an owner’s horses might be kept on the money made in stud fees from one successful racer turned stallion. Or the unexpectedly high price at auction for the sale of a broodmare’s best foal.

Even then, there were things that those in the industry tended to avoid, if they knew their own likes and dislikes. Conformation irregularities. Small foals.

“I don’t think he’s going to be a big animal,” Jamie said, stretching for some way of conversing. It seemed awkward all of a sudden. Maybe it was talking things over with John that cemented just how invested in Claire, Jamie realised he really was. He wanted her to like him. Wanted her to approve. Wanted her to think he was doing well by the wee colt.

“You can tell that from his size now?”

“Most folks who know horses can tell it the moment they’re born. A small foal will usually be a small horse. First foals are often small. The ones after that tend to be bigger, better animals. Most folks that breed horses have some idea of what they’re getting from the age of the broodmare and whether she throws to the sire or not, and what the sire’s other crops have been like unless its a first crop in which case everyone wants to know how it’ll turn out. It used to be thought that champions had to be big, but Northern Dancer was small and he’s been just about the most important sire of the last hundred years in thoroughbred racing. So you never can tell. But people have their preferences.”

“And what do you prefer, Jamie Fraser?”

Jamie stopped. They had come to the colt’s stall. The groom was leading the horse in. There was fresh hay and water for him. Sawdust on the floor. Jamie half glanced at Claire, his body automatically angling itself towards her. “I like heart. But that doesnae come wi’ training. They either have it or they don’t.”

“And how do you know if a horse has heart?”

“You wait until they tell you,” Jamie replied simply. “Have you thought of a stable name?”

“A what?”

“A thoroughbred that’s going to race will need a unique racing name, when it comes to be time to register the animal. But away from the track they often have an informal name they’re known by around the stables.”

Claire realised she hadn’t even thought about names. That was something that other people did. That happened in other places. The thought that she was supposed to name it herself left her slightly out of sorts, her mind blank. Claire had never had any siblings, never had any pets. She had lived most of her life without close friends, moving frequently as a child and then leaving university when she got married to Frank pulling her away from most of her peers. Joe was the only one who had made a point of telling her that she would always be welcome to get in touch. She shrugged.

“Well I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Jamie smirked.

 


	28. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Thank you once again for all the wonderful support you've been giving this story. It honestly means so much.

**Chapter 27**

“He looks quite comfortable,” Claire observed. They were standing in the door of the stall, watching the colt being introduced to the place for the first time. To her relief he looked calm and at ease and the animals snorted slightly and shook his head. She turned her own head to look at Jamie Fraser and found him watching the colt carefully. He had intense eyes and those rolling shoulders that hunched when he crossed his arms. “If the offer still stands I’d be interested to see the rest of the outfit. Not least because if anyone asks about my knowledge it would be nice to know enough to bluff my way through a conversation.”

Jamie looked at her then, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Aye?” He had a word with the groom, who went about her business making sure the horse was settled in and then set off at a slow walk with Claire. He wasn’t sorry to have more of her time. It was only that Jamie did it with ever-increasing guilt that he was leading her on. Still, he couldn’t abide the thought of her leaving just yet and with as much professionalism as he could muster Jamie showed Claire the stables and the tack room, the feeding station, the lunging ring, the walker, the mock race track set up with real white racing railings and finally the paddocks. It was cold, and damp. Moisture clung to everything. The last of the leaves had fallen from the trees leaving the countryside in mottled hues of purple, red and brown. They were colours that were as familiar as they were soothing. The deep purple shades of the newly bare branches layered against each other in hedges and rows of trees. The mixed brown and white of the chalky ploughed soil. The dark green of the grass fading into the winter dampness.

“Tell me more about yearlings,” Claire prompted.

“More? More than what?”

“I’ve made an investment in something I know little about. I’m curious.”

“Ye didn’t ask Mrs Baird?” Jamie queried.

“I’d rather ask you.” Claire didn’t tell him it was just to watch the animated way he spoke with his arms and his eyes and his whole body, the way he looked at her to see if she was listening and what her response might be. The way she seemed to be important to him. Jamie didn’t talk at her, he talked to her and Claire liked that.

“Well at this stage they’ve usually spent most of their life in a field. We’d normally expect a yearling to have been trained to wear a halter, be led around, loaded onto a trailer, had its hoofs handled. That sort of thing. Just the basics really, so you can put a blanket on or load them up or check they’re okay. We won’t start breaking them properly until after the new year. Let him get settled in and get used to the yard first. Learn the routine.”

Claire acknowledged that she could get to like it here. The thought came back to her again of being outside of London. It was quiet here. The air was fresh. There was the smell of wet earth and leaves in the air. The whiff of dung and sawdust, the hearty smell of leather tack. There were land rovers and waxed jackets and riding boots and all the things that Claire thought of as belonging to the countryside. It was a quieter, gentler way of life that called out to her. And, Claire acknowledged, she liked the people here too. “You’re very patient with them.”

“I like the calmness of a stable. Horses respond well to good treatment and routine. Not unlike humans, I suppose. I didn’t have the easiest time of it as a young man. My father died just after I left school and I felt very lost for a long time. There’s something about horses that’s good for the soul, I find.”

“I have to admit you’re younger than I expected.”

“Admit it,” Jamie teased, “You’re surprised that I still have colour in my hair.”

“Well I wasn’t imagining some dashing young Mister Darcy, I can assure you,” Claire smiled and she searched his eyes, wondering if he could tell her interest. Wondering if he understood the reference. The way his cheeks pinked, she thought that he probably did. “I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed our evening very much, Jamie.”

“Aye, that’s kind of why I phoned you. I need to explain something to you. Look, this is a relationship that – well there’s the horse isn’t there and that has to come first and I’m aware that you’ve been widowed not too long ago and I don’t want to seem inappropriate.”

“If you’ve been inappropriate I can assure you that I’m just as guilty,” Claire stood beside him, under a tree, looking out at the fine view of the English countryside across the Newmarket Downs. Grass, hedgerows, crows and pigeons and winter thrushes.

And horses.

Lots of horses.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Claire. The truth is I’m involved with someone.”

Claire’s eyes widened, her jaw hung open. “I cannot believe this is happening. This is some sort of sick joke!” They said that lightning didn’t strike twice but Claire had found herself in the exact same situation with two different men at two ends of the same week. Exactly one week ago today Claire had gone out and pulled a hot, kind, charming man who knew his way around a condom. Claire still blushed to think of the desperate way they had thoroughly fucked each other on top of Frank’s favourite sideboard. Round two of the best dick she’d ever had had ended with Claire’s thoroughly blissed out feeling crashing down around her ears as he carefully told her it couldn’t go anywhere. Abject humiliation, in her own home.

And now it had happened again.

At least she’d had the sense not to fuck him first.

It was like the world was determined to treat her as some sort of fall piece. The butt of the joke. Every time she dared to get her hopes up that a man might be interested, that everything Frank had made her believe about herself was wrong, the world found a way to shatter her carefully constructed sense of self-worth. Hopefully returning to university and pursuing the career she had dreamed of as a child would help her in finding her way to personal and professional fulfilment. But was it so far out of reach to want a little happiness in her personal life as well? A fun fling and some amazing sex. Frank had dealt with her in his own way. Had provided her with an orgasm or two from time to time Claire realised he was only really continuing to do so out of some sense of obligation and that his heart wasn’t in it.

It had nearly broken her.

Claire liked sex. She wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Watching pornography, using dildos, pleasuring herself – none of it compared to Claire to being at the receiving end of the attention of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. But she also believed in her marriage vows, even if Frank clearly didn’t.

Did it even have to be a man? Once or twice Claire could admit that she had contemplated starting something with a woman. There had certainly been interest. There had even been a promising session in a woman’s toilet where Claire recalled a classmate with red hair fingering her to completion and muttering dirty things in her ear.

Maybe Claire had a thing for redheads.

A week later Frank Randall had walked into her life and Claire had been smitten. For Claire, no one else existed.

In the end the mental pressure she felt herself place on her marital obligations was the thing that had prevented Claire seeking the personal satisfaction she desired elsewhere. No, not just desired. It was something she needed. Something Claire didn’t feel human without. Now that Frank had gone Claire wondered slightly at the amount of mental pressure she had once put on herself. Where did the mental pressure, the feeling of obligation come from? One might have said peer pressure if she had any friends or family left. Maybe it was only the lingering sensation that her marriage to Frank was the only semblance of social construct left in her life, even as the institution itself and the other party to it isolated and belittled her more than ever.

Now Claire wanted something different. She wanted to live for herself, and look out for herself and that included allowing herself the things that made her happy. Things like sex. Claire couldn’t rightly explain what it was that drew her to Jamie Fraser. She had never believed in love at first sight, but from the very moment she saw him Claire had felt a pull. Gravitated. Her heart beat faster, her stomach fluttered. She wanted to be close to him. Near him. She wanted to talk with him and laugh with him and kiss him and more and in just a few short moments her heart had been broken, yet again. Her hopes dashed. Her fragile self-worth shattered.  


“Its fine. I understand,” Claire tried to smile, tried to put on her best face while inside she fell to pieces.

  



	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

A warm hand slid into hers.

“No, Claire, I don’t think you do. Are you telling me I’m imagining this. This thing. I don’t know what it is but there’s something there, some connection when I’m with you that...” Jamie tailed off and shook his head and then he turned and looked at her.

Claire pulled her hand away. “I do like you, Jamie. I think I’ve been clear that by the time he died Frank wasn’t my favourite person. What I haven’t told you about Frank was that he was perpetually unfaithful to me throughout our marriage. And I have absolutely no intention of allowing myself to become someone’s ‘other woman’.” Claire saw the protest on his lips before she had even finished talking. Saw him open his mouth as she turned and walked away. “Thank you for the tour. I’ll show myself out.”

“Claire!” Jamie called after her but it was all for nothing. Her face was the very picture of wrathful clouds broiling up into a storm. Hurt flashed in those beautiful whisky-amber eyes and then she was gone.

 

With a heavy heart Jamie plodded back to heart of the stables. He found the colt’s stall, and stood for a long moment looking at the young horse, standing munching happily on his hay net. Maybe the horse would stay. Maybe it wouldn’t. Jamie had rejected more than one lonely wife looking for a good time while their husband was away. This felt different. He felt heartsick and all he wanted to do was call John and feel miserable. John ought to be well on his way to London by now, but Jamie needed to hear his voice and so he pulled out his mobile and pressed speed-dial.

Jamie could hear from the poor sound quality on the other end that John was driving with his hands-free kit on. “John?”

“Jamie? What’s wrong?”

“I told her,” Jamie said quietly. His voice was heavy. Bitter. “It didn’t go so well.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No. Don’t. You have to get to work.”

“Family emergency,” John stated before the phone went dead. Jamie pulled on his game face and gritted his teeth. John was coming, he only had to hold it together a little longer.

God, he could use a hug.

Murtagh had a day off today, but even so the stables were running smoothly and Jamie left the staff to it, going off for a wander down the drive to wait under the entrance arch. One one side of the road sat a grand old oak tree that marked the access point of one of the local public rights of way they used for taking the horses out for a hack and on another was the corner of a horse paddock. There was no one there. Why would there be. Only fencing and hedgerows and horses. This part of the county always got quieter when the city workers had commuted into London for the day or the week and anyone who was a local was at work, often in the industry or a short drive away in towns such as Cambridge. There were few insects to speak of at the start of December and a cold damp clung to everything and refused to freeze, heightening the sense of misery. In the paddock one of the mares came over to say hello and he realised it was Lady who must have been put out on the grass while Jamie was showing Claire around.

Jamie felt soothed stroking her neck, letting the mare nuzzle his palm in the hope of absent polo mints and nibbling at his pockets just in case. “John spoils you too much,” Jamie told her softly, and with great fondness. A little while later, behind him, a car pulled up and Jamie recognised the sound of the tyres on the gravel before he had even turned around. John had stopped in the middle of the drive and gotten out.

“Do I even want to know what speeds you were doing to get here in that time?”

“Probably not,” John muttered. He stopped before Jamie and took a good look at him, craning his neck to force Jamie into eye contact. John had an inkling of what Jamie had been hoping for when it came to this woman. Jamie was a pretty headstrong fellow but there were times when his heart led his head and John could see the quiet heartbreak and disappointment in Jamie’s eyes. “Come here.”

Jamie melted into John’s arms, feeling at once pathetic for needing it and at the same time, like he had come home just by being there. At length he pulled back and looked into John’s eyes, cupping John’s jaw fondly.

“You are a better man than I deserve, John Grey.”

The car park here wasn’t the quietest place. There were a few curious looking employees milling about and so John took Jamie’s hand and pulled him out of the way over to the oak tree on the other side where it was quieter and it was less likely that any of the staff would overhear a personal discussion.

If they even got as far as talking.

No sooner had they got as far as the large oak than Jamie had John pressed up against the trunk and was kissing him soundly.

 

Unbeknownst to either Jamie or John, when Claire had first walked away from Jamie Fraser and his peculiar admission Claire had wandered off and gotten lost. Having eventually found her way out of the stables, Claire found a footpath and set out along it to burn off some anger and clear her head. Just what had Fraser been thinking? Claire wondered. She hadn’t taken him for the womanising type. He didn’t have that air about him. But apparently appearances could be deceiving.

A long walk in the fresh air did her good. She felt newly revived and confident in herself – if a little cold – when almost an hour later she was finally making her way back to the car park at Fraser Stables. A local dog walker had directed her to a path that came out next to the stables’ entrance where the car park was situated. The ground underfoot was slightly soft, overnight rain having failed to evaporate in the coolness of the day as the temperature hovered just above freezing. To her surprise as she came down the path two men came into sight. They were standing with their hips pressed together, holding hands and talking to each other in soft, urgent tones. Claire felt conflicted. On the one hand she had no intention of interrupting some lovers’ assignation, nevermind two men in the woods. On the other hand, it was a public footpath and she needed to get back to her car.

 

Resolving to forge ahead regardless and hope for the best, Claire only realised as she got closer that the taller of the two had the distinctive red hair and muscled shoulders of Jamie Fraser. As she got within a few metres, Claire stopped and stared in horror as she realised the identity of the other man who pulled Jamie Fraser into his arms.

 

The man she had met in London only a few days before was standing in Jamie’s arms here in Newmarket looking like a lover. Her mind warped back to that night, to the amazing sex, to the unexpected peace of that post-coital moment shattered by John’s declaration.

 

“ _Claire, I like you very much but I must be honest with you. I do have a boyfriend.”_

 

The distinctive handsome face and athletic figure. Her heart stopped, contracting breathlessly in twisted horror and bitter attraction. Thoughts crashing around in her head. One memory after another of her time with each man danced around her mind like a whirling dervish as her brain put the pieces together.

 

“ _Its called an open relationship.”_

 

Jamie Fraser’s peculiar behaviour in leading her on and yet being strangely evasive about his private life.

 

“ _I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Claire. The truth is I’m involved with someone.”_

 

Claire stood, stuck to the spot, dumbfounded, as very slowly and painfully the penny began to drop.

 

 

 


	30. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an amazing response to the last chapter. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 29**

 

A few dozen yards down the path, totally wrapped up in their own little world, Jamie took a moment to enjoy John’s embrace even while he knew John’s presence here was likely to cause problems at work. “Thank you for coming back, John. Although it feels odd for you to comfort me about someone else’s rejection, I am grateful for it. It ken it feels childish, but I’m no used tae this.”

“I came back because I know you, Jamie Fraser. You let things eat you up,” John poked at Jamie’s head. “You’d spend the rest of the week feeling like this if I let you. The fact of the matter is, not everyone understands the way others choose to live their lives,” John Grey explained.

Claire could see Jamie clinging to it, his head bowed. “If I could just explain it to her...”

“Give her some time,” John urged. “Even if she doesn’t want to hear it, she’s going to learn about us sooner or later from the simple fact she keeps her horse here.”

There it was, Claire thought. Ineffable proof, that they knew. They knew and they had kept it from her.

“Its not the easiest thing to explain to people,” Jamie said with a sigh.

Claire heard Jamie sigh and felt her own blood boil in response. How could they stand there self-indulgently commiserating each other while gaslighting her? Watching them, listening to them - their heads bowed together, bodies close – Claire felt something snap inside her. She took a step forwards out of the shadows and a twig cracked under her foot.

Almost in slow motion Claire watched as they realised someone was there, as they looked up, as recognition formed in John’s eyes, and then Jamie’s as Claire stared from one to the other. Arms crossed, body straight, eyes blazing fire.

Claire meant business.

  
_"Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd,"_ John thought. He had never met a woman who look quite as commanding and quite as terrifying as Claire Beauchamp Randall’s quiet, seething anger as she stared them down. John could understand why. To see him here, now, in Jamie’s arms must not look very good from where she was standing. Turning her down, then turning up unexpectedly with someone else whom Claire was not to know John had a commitment to. It was the danger of toeing the line between honesty and discretion in an open relationship that misunderstandings could occur. He wished he knew what to say but his mouth opened and closed and no sound came out. It was the first time in his life that he had been quite as lost for words as this. It was also the first time in his life that one of his London liasons – and one he remembered very fondly if truth be told – had turned up in Newmarket. His mind whirled, struggling to understand her presence here. “Claire?”

“John,” Claire broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at the ground. For God’s sake why did the man have to look so damned attractive all of the time. She took in a deep breath and then looked up again. “This is...unexpected.”

Jamie’s brows knitted together in a confused frown. “You two know each other?”

“We had sex in London exactly one week ago,” Claire Beauchamp declared, hands on hips blocking the pathway and brooking absolutely no excuses until these men had explained themselves. “Twice. Quite what he’s doing in your arms I have no idea.”

Claire could see that this information was news to Jamie and from the way that John’s mouth opened and closed Claire surmised that she wasn’t the only one this man had been keeping secrets from. “I asked if we could see each other again. He told me he was seeing someone. Imagine my surprise when he turns up a week later at my horse trainer’s yard, in the embraces of the second man in a week who told me he likes me but he’s also seeing someone else.” Claire looked from one to the other.

Jamie groaned deeply.

“Wait,” John looked at Jamie. “The new client I gave you permission to date is...”

Jamie nodded and then pinched his nose. He felt a headache coming on. “Aye, John. This is Claire.”

“Great!” Claire stalked towards them. “Now that we’re all introduced, one or both of you is going to explain just what the hell sort of game you think you’re playing at and them I’m going to geld you both.”

Jamie held up two hands placatingly. That sounded rather extreme and he would prefer to get out of this with his testicles intact, even if he didn’t use them as often as John might prefer. “Claire, I swear I didn’t know.”

“ _How can you not have known?”_ Claire was on the verge of tears by this point. Alone, wrung-out. Dumped – twice. Lied to. “Oh fuck you both. I’ll be calling Mrs Baird and arranging the removal of my colt as soon as possible.”

“Claire, please!” Jamie left John’s arms to take a step towards her but one look from Claire him him grinding to a halt. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Why don’t we have a cup of tea and we can talk about this.”

Claire threw up her hands in astonishment. “What is there to talk about? Your boyfriend or husband or whatever he is screwed me in London, I come up here and you’ve made every effort of showing me just how much you want to screw me too and neither of you felt compelled to tell me you were in it together?”

Jamie and John looked at each other. It was completely inappropriate, but Jamie felt a well of amusement bubble up in his chest. It was like something out of an Ealing comedy. What to tell her first? That he was asexual. That apparently he and John had been chasing the same woman without realising it?

“Claire,” John spoke quietly. “Jamie didn’t know. We don’t always discuss, well, other people. Just as I didn’t talk about Jamie to you.”

Claire felt John’s eyes bore into her own, pleading eyes, begging her to believe him. Claire was reluctant to give John the benefit of the doubt. Right now she was too angry, too outraged and too hurt to do so. Why should she? Yet at the same time the realisation began to hit home that that the person John had turned her down for was Jamie.

And Jamie, standing a few feet away, had the distinct feeling that if they didn’t sort this out right now he might never see her again. “Claire ye have to believe us.”

“Why the hell should I believe you?”

“I am not going to stand here explaining my sex life in a muddy car park!” John hissed in exasperation. “For what its worth – we were not ‘in it together’ as you so succinctly put it. Claire, believe me, I have been screwed around often enough in my life that I wouldn’t do that to someone I hated nevermind someone I actually quite liked.”

“Careful, John, that was nearly a compliment,” Jamie muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

John turned to Jamie, indignant, only to catch the amused smirk on his boyfriend's face threatening to burst out into laughter. It was so tense, in truth, the thought of laughter was rather cathartic but John fought to keep his composure.

Claire saw the looks shared between them, the unspoken communication that she reluctantly had to admit was anything but what she had expected. Men using her, men treating her as a game. No, these men looked awkward and tongue tied and she hated them for it because it meant that they were mostly likely telling the truth and that took the wind out of her sails. Just enough to hesitate. Her fight or flight response backed down. Claire felt her self relaxing ever so slightly. She was no less angry, no less confused, and no less in need of an explanation as to just what the hell was going on in her life with these men but the sense of being in immediate danger passed as reality came flooding in. John was not an imposing man. Important, Claire was beginning to suspect but he held power in a different manner. Jamie was the one who was physical, the one who she would be more inclined to fear should things turn physical but in spite of his imposing size and height and the physicality of the way he moved, Jamie’s mannerisms and personality put her at ease, exuding a sense of comfort and security. His face relaxed, his shoulders dropped a notched. When he spoke it was not with a raised voice but a quiet pleading.

“Come back to the house for some tea. At least let us explain,” John suggested.

“John,” Jamie’s brows frowned.

“No, we owe her that much. There’s been a terrible mix-up and I’ll be damned if we’re not going to deal with this like mature adults,” John challenged Jamie to disagree and when no disagreement came he turned to Claire. “If you’re willing to talk, we’ll answer any of your questions,” John promised. “On the agreement that none of what we speak of will make its way to the press.”

It was Claire’s turn to be lost for words. “Where on earth does the press come in?”

Jamie and John exchanged a glance that was not lost on Claire.

“Will you talk?” Jamie pressed. Thank God for John’s diplomatic skills. Firm, but certain. Stubborn. He allowed himself to imagine John being that way in the bedroom and felt his stomach flutter a little. Alright, maybe that was something they could try next time they both felt like it. But the woman in front of them drew his attention.

Claire, deliberating, weighed the pros and cons. She had every right to walk away right now. But as she looked at them once more something stopped her. An awkward meeting of the eye with John. The flash of memory of the way he moved inside her, of their joint panting breaths. The comfort and rightness of being in Jamie’s presence. The tantalising way Jamie seemed to be interested but refused to make a move. “John’s right,” Claire agreed, “I would very much like an explanation.”

Relief flashed across Jamie’s face.

Claire could only think that the man was an idiot if he’d started to count his chickens.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd," is attributed to Act III scene viii of The Mourning Bride by William Cosgreave (1697) https://www.enotes.com/topics/mourning-bride


	31. Chapter 30

 

**Chapter 30**

Jamie got into John’s car, Claire followed in her own and they made the short drive to John’s house while Jamie texted his stable manager that he had popped over to John’s and he would be back in an hour.Jamie’s place was closer but perhaps a little too close. As he had the place next to the stables for convenience, there was every chance they would be interrupted. Jamie thought it would be better to have this conversation in proper privacy and he could tell at a glance that John agreed with him.

They pulled into John’s drive and John went ahead and opened the door. Jamie wondered what Claire was thinking. Wondered how to explain this to her. He felt a pull to Claire that he could not deny and yet John seemed in no way perturbed by the revelation. A little wary, perhaps. But Jamie had no touch stone to work from. He was making this up as he went along and it made him nervous. He had little enough experience with relationships in his life. There had been a couple of women, in years gone by. Jamie’s lack on interest in the bedroom had eventually led to them leaving and he had been so caught up with his work he hadn’t really taken the time to miss them very much. Jamie was well aware of their confusion. He knew what he looked like, he looked after himself. He kept himself in shape, trim and athletic enough to do a physical job fourteen hours a day. He was tall and passably handsome with a good education and his own business. In many respects Jamie knew he was what the world at large would consider ‘a catch’. On the other hand there were the long hours, the lack of interest in intimacy in relationships gone by and the slightly outdated attitudes at times that had been ingrained into him in childhood that Jamie was well aware rubbed against the grain at times. No relationship thrived on neglect and with both Jamie and John so dedicated to their work, Jamie realised they had both worked at finding ways of having quality time together.

In spite of the paddling at the shallow end of the dating pool when it came to his flirtations with Claire, Jamie had to admit he hadn’t really thought long and hard about how inviting her into their life would impact anything. It was beginning to hit home now, as he watched Claire warily hover outside wondering whether to come inside after all.

He suddenly felt compelled to ask John quietly and in private what the sex was like. And, ridiculously, he felt a spring of hope. His worry with Claire was that his general lack of interest in sex would put her off. And while he would do it for John and he was learning that there were things that, when he felt like it, he actually quite enjoyed, he wasn’t ever sure that he would feel lust and crave sex the way other people seemed to. Sometimes he felt curious about it, he had a libido, he liked sharing things with John but that was different. That was about sharing intimacy with the person you loved. But if John and Claire could have sex, maybe they could satisfy each other without Jamie having to worry about his shortcomings in the relationship and if at a later point he and Claire decided to take that step-

“You live together,” Claire commented as the entered the door.

“Yes. And no. Technically this is John’s place.” Jamie watched John hang up his jacket and reached out a hand in offering to accept Claire’s. She gave him her jacket. Well, that was something at least.

“I confess, I encourage him to spend as much time here as possible.” John said, looking at Jamie with a twinkle in his eyes. “Took me three years to get him to move from the spare room to the bedroom.”

They made their way into the house proper and John went into the kitchen – his domain of choice – and filled the electric kettle. Jamie invited Claire to have a seat at the kitchen table and assessed how angry she was before deciding to take a seat to her left. “I have my own place next to the stables but its more of a house than a home. There’s a wee office for paperwork at the stables but the bulk of the running of the business I do from home and I sleep there when John’s out of town. I use it for meetings, and staff come and go. Work digs, you might say. I’ve always preferred to spend my personal time here.”

Jamie could see that he had Claire’s attention, that she was at the very least giving them a chance to explain themselves and that gave him hope and made his heart lift a little. “Perhaps ye think it odd, in the circumstances,” Jamie probed.

Across the table Claire did her best to keep a cool head. She had been blindsided by more than one event so far today. Not only did it turn out that Jamie and her shag from last week knew each other. They were actually together – yet somehow claiming each didn’t know about the other’s involvement with her.

“Well once I’ve got over feeling every possible interpretation of ‘awkward’ I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Jamie smiled at her in what Claire could clearly see was an attempt at reassurance. She wasn’t at a point yet where reassurance from others would do much good. Her mind was too disordered. Jamie took a long look at her and then got up and returned a moment later, laying a blanket around her shoulders. “Ye looked cold.”

Claire supposed she might be a little. She hadn’t really been wearing clothes intended for a long country walk at the start of December.

The kettle switched itself off and John placed three mugs of tea along with milk and sugar on the kiichen table before taking his own seat on a third side. It wasn’t until Claire got some hot, sweet tea down her throat that she realised just how much she needed it and her hand gravitated towards the chocolate hobnob biscuits that John placed on the table. The sensation began to spread through her of feeling altogether better after a cup of tea and biscuits that took the edge off the chill of the cold damp. Her fingers had turned pale, she realised, not having gloves or a hat with her.

John and Jamie sat quietly, sipping their tea and occasionally touching hands on the table. They looked at each other, each wondering what to say but it was Claire who spoke first. Having taken a moment to get some hot tea into her stomach and gather her thoughts, she cleared her throat and turned to Jamie.

"What the bloody hell do you two think you're playing at?!"

"Claire..." Jamie's feline eyes shifted.

"Don't you dare, _'Claire_ ', me. Jesus H Christ, Jamie.”

Jamie shifted in his chair.

Claire knew she looked liked she was about to blow her top. John frankly couldn't blame her. He had to admit he wasn't sure that he would conduct himself with much grace if their positions were reversed.

At the head of the table, Claire stared Jamie down.

Carefully, Jamie glanced at John and then cleared his throat. "You're right. I owe you an apology, Claire. I should have told you sooner."

Not in a mood to be terribly forgiving, Claire let him suffer for a few moments longer before nodding curtly in acceptance and turning her attentions to John. "And don't for a moment suppose I don't have something to say to you as well!"

John looked more than a little tentative at the look of righteous indignation on their visitor's face.

“Claire,” John sat forwards a little, “Had I known that you and Jamie knew each other, that you had an interest in each other, I never would have presumed to make a move on you.”

 Jamie cut in, his voice calm and soothing. Like the one he used with the horses. “I’m sorry if you feel that I’ve lied to you, and I’m sure that John feels the same. We have a slightly unconventional relationship, you might say.”

“Apparently,” Claire deadpanned and then dropped the matter in favour of sipping her tea. It was ridiculous sitting here with these two men. One of them she could barely stop looking at, the other she could barely stop thinking about fucking. What was it about Jamie Fraser that drew her eye so? And sex with John had really been quite something. But quite frankly was the sight of Fraser's arse in jodhpurs worth all the trouble?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few last minute edits to this one so if there's any glaring typos/errors or anything that doesn't actually make sense please point it out so I can make it better.


	32. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There won't be an update next week and as there wasn't a good place to stop in the middle of this scene please enjoy a slightly longer chapter next week. Thank you for all the wonderful continued support and understanding. x

**Chapter 31**

“So, you have one of those open relationships or something?”

“Or something,” John glanced at Jamie. A silent offer to let him take the lead. John wasn’t sure, after all, how much of himself Jamie was comfortable discussing with others. Especially when he was still working some of it out for himself.

Jamie, clutching his cup of tea, stood up from the table and walked over to the window looking out over the garden and the nearby lane. “What John is being so careful not to tell you is that John and I have known each other for a number of years but this aspect to our relationship is still quite new. It took me a long time to accept that I might be feeling an attraction towards another man and even longer to feel comfortable with personal intimacy. Some of that comes from the way I was raised, and the times I was raised in,” Jamie shrugged. “But some of it was just me. The truth is that, whatever label you want to put on it, what I want and need from intimacy and what John wants and needs are two very different things. And so we muddle through, in our own way. And we work out what works for us and what doesn’t. And when one of us wants or needs something outside of that, we have an agreement of sorts to let certain itches be scratched.” Jamie looked to John for approval and John smiled kindly. It was the most open John had heard Jamie be with anyone about their relationship.

“I live and work five days a week in London,” John spoke, “As far as possible, for Jamie’s sake, I try to be discreet. I wasn’t trying to be dishonest when I failed to mention him,” John appealed to Claire.

Claire, for her part, was trying to decide what to believe. It sounded genuine – Jamie was naturally honest by inclination but she didn’t for a moment believe it was the full story. Not by a country mile. There were things he was holding back. She watched Jamie turn back around from the window to the table and felt those curious feline eyes move between John and herself. It felt rather disconcertingly like being the prey of a cat. Jamie wanted something – but what?

“You haven’t told me how you two met,” He prompted. Far too casually.

An erotic pulse throbbed right through her body, her stomach flipped and her mouth went dry as she realised what that narrowing of his eyes meant; the under current in his voice.

Oh dear God the man was _interested._

As her mind tried to warp itself around that new thought Claire stared at her cup. She might need something a little stronger than tea for this discussion. Then she looked at her watch and Claire supposed, reluctantly, that it was a little early. More’s the pity. There was what looked like a very nice selection of whisky bottles visible in the living room. Well that, at least, that was something to chalk up for the positives. At least they had taste in whisky. “We met at a bar.”

“We were both seated at the bar of a gastro pub waiting for a table. A table came up and we decided to share it,” John explained to Jamie. “At the end of the night Claire invited me home.”

Claire could sense Jamie’s surprise and confusion. Could see the way his mouth opened with a thought already on the tip of his tongue. Could see in his eyes the thought of the new widow going out looking for sex, a hint of judgement from the man who had moments before had barely been concealing his own feelings when it came to his interest in her. Well she could soon set him to rights about that.

“Look, I can see what you’re thinking. I know women are supposed to be demure and polite and all of that crap and frankly I spent the entire duration of my marriage trying to please a man and not only failing miserably but also making myself miserable in the process. I saw someone I liked and I asked them home and by my recollection we both had a pretty good time. I’m not going to sit here and apologise for it.”

"Alright," Jamie nodded, somewhat mollified.

Claire sat at the table, feeling like a fish out of water. John looked surprised at Claire’s intervention but let it be and Claire took a moment to breathe and gather her thoughts. Whatever they did in their private life they were clearly a couple’s couple. You could tell it by the way they moved around each other without thinking, the way they finished each others sentences. They way they turned towards each other and were as comfortable with intimacy as with silence. There was still a rumbling unease in her chest, a heavy hearted unhappiness. While she understood in her head why John had failed to mention Jamie that night, she could acknowledge to herself that it still felt like a complete betrayal.

“I can see that you’re not very happy with me,” John stated carefully, reading Claire’s face as well as her mind. And from now on if you don’t want to see me you don’t have to have anything to do with me, but...” John looked at his boyfriend. “Jamie likes you. And I think you like him or you wouldn’t be so upset about all this. And even before I knew who you were I want you to know that he told me about you.”

“You just said you didn’t know!” Claire exclaimed.

“Well not by name obviously – but,” John looked across at Jamie and smiled. A warm smile, full of love. “He told me that he'd met someone and so Jamie and I made an agreement. Notwithstanding our history, Claire, if you two want to see each other I don’t have any objection to that. I compelled him to be honest with you. I think I speak for both of us when I say we’re sorry about any misunderstanding, and I appreciate that I might not be your favourite person right about now but for what its worth _my_ position on that hasn’t changed. The question is, has yours.”

 

All the time John spoke, Claire felt Jamie’s eyes on her. He had the strong, mindful stare of someone who knew what they wanted. Oh, he was all politeness and courtesy but there was no disguising for the sake of politeness any attraction he might be feeling towards her. It was as close as Claire realised she was going to get to an invitation but her mind could not forget the raptures of John’s embrace and the deep knot of betrayal that would not rest. Oh, she was angry at him. Beyond words. And yet the realisation was still settling that the relationship that he had told her precluded any further relationship between them was in fact his relationship with Jamie? And what of these vague matters of intimacy they had spoken of. What if she wanted different things? How did that work out?

And, most of all, did what she had learned today change how she felt about Jamie? Oh yes, there were feelings. The way her stomach fluttered, the way she yearned to see him.

Claire could admit to a little curiosity. Was the door still closed on any future sexual encounters with John? Part of her couldn’t believe she was even contemplating such a thing while Jamie sat before her, but she’d never in her life imagined she would be in such a position.

Almost in sync, Jamie watched the cogs turning in Claire’s mind and he smiled to himself. It pleased him to know that Claire and John satisfied each other in that way. And might again one day – although it was clear from Claire’s response that she was still hurt by being knocked back by John before. Jamie supposed that there was a lot to unpack there at the best of times, and that was without whatever troubled history appeared to be buried beneath the acceptable facade of Claire’s former marriage. But for now Jamie could admit that he selfishly wanted a little time for just the two of them. Jamie felt John’s eyes on him and knew he was about to be asked to set out his stall.

“Jamie?” John invited.

“Aye. I’d still like to see ye, Claire. If that’s something you want. But ye need to know John’s part of my life...” Jamie stopped as Claire stood up and pushed her chair away from the table. “Claire?”

“Son of a bitch. Can’t one of you be angry about this for one god-damned moment?” To Jamie and John’s shock – not only at the language but at the vehemence of the statement – Claire then proceeded into the living room where she pulled the stopper on the first bottle of whisky she found and took a gulp. “I’ll reimburse you.”

Jamie stood in the doorway, staring.

“I mean can’t you be jealous, or spiteful or...” Claire stared at them questioningly. When she was met with blank stares in return she saw no other option but to down another mouthful. “What if John and I started shagging? Wouldn’t that be some sort of problem to our polite little arrangement of country walks and hand holding and tea?”

Curiously, Jamie’s face turned beetroot and for the first time in her life Claire witnessed Jamie Fraser blush to the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, far be it from me to dictate the state o’ things between the two o’ ye but from where I’m standing that’s the furthest thing from a problem.” He tailed off with a little shrug as John burst out into mirthful laughter.

Jamie supposed it was easier to meet such situations with the familiar emotions of anger and hatred. Betrayal. The complicated politics of affairs. But Jamie had lived in the world long enough to be a pragmatist about things. Being with John had helped him work through a lot of his own surface emotions to see the bigger picture and he felt a lot more at peace for that fact. His stomach clenched at the thought that this might all be a bit too much for Claire and drive her away. Jamie wasn’t sure if he could bear that. But with a little time just maybe she would come to understand. It was, of course, at that exact moment that Jamie’s phone went off. Murtagh was looking for him and it couldn’t wait.

“I’m sorry I’m needed back at the stables.”

“Well,” Claire decided, “I think that’s my cue.”

“Claire, if you want to stay...” John offered.

“No, I think I need some time to think.” Claire put the bottle down and then realised she couldn’t drive. “I might book a hotel.”

“Pick your car up later,” Jamie urged. “Whenever it suits. Once that whisky’s worn off.”

“Well if you’re both leaving I’d better get on the road myself. Jamie?”

They exited together and John locked up and then Claire watched, not quite sure what to do with herself as John and Jamie bid their farewells once more. They stood and stared at each other for a long moment until Jamie reached out and touched John’s stomach and John melted into Jamie’s arms and they hugged, long and intimate and then kissed in a soft, passionate kiss that left Claire with no illusions about the nature of the relationship between them. “I’ll see ye on Friday?” Jamie asked urgently.

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” John grinned and then directed a curt nod of farewell at Claire. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Doesn’t narrow it down very much,” Jamie muttered, just loud enough for John to hear.

“Arse.”

“I love you too,” Jamie’s voice broke. “Now get out of here.” It never got any easier for Jamie, even knowing he had his work to distract him. Watching John drive away to London was hell. Jamie wanted him at home, he could admit it now. But John’s work was there and Jamie’s work was here. Some people commuted such distances daily. With John’s family connections and Hal in London as well and all sorts of odd hours to keep, Jamie had long since decided to let John live his own life. But that didn’t mean it was easy.

Claire toyed with her car key. “Are you sure its ok to leave it here?”

“Of course. You’re thinking of hanging around town?”

“I might,” Claire sighed. “Look, I can’t deny that its been a bit of a shock.”

“I understand. Take some time to think about things.”

Jamie and Claire parted. Jamie to go back to work. Claire to go and find a room in the hotel that was now becoming rather familiar to her. The familiar room in the familiar town with its familiar view. It was at times like this that, Claire supposed, a woman usually phoned her girlfriends. Claire right now couldn’t think of any girlfriends to call and she wasn’t exactly sure that Joe and Gayle would understand the situation.

Claire ordered some tea, sat down at the small desk and let herself sink into the chair with a deep sigh. At length, after a few sips of hot tea to calm her, Claire pulled out the medical textbook she had brought with her. At the very least, there was always her efforts to catch up with her studies to keep her mind busy. Whatever happened or didn’t happen in her love life, Claire was resolved to continue to pursue what she wanted for herself. But whether, or how, or if Jamie Fraser and John Grey fitted into that, as yet Claire had no idea.

 


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Jamie buried himself in work that day and returned to his house exhausted. He made himself a modest dinner. Cooking was not as natural for him as it was for John but diet was important in the world of horses, as important for the humans as for the animals and he knew enough to feed himself. Worn out, Jamie had an early night and an early start. He was up and dressed by half past four and hit the stables at five to prepare for the morning workout at six. Around nine o’clock the staff all had a break for breakfast – or second breakfast for some. Jamie usually retreated to his house to do some paperwork unless he was needed and then headed back to the stables for the training sessions.

It was around three o’clock and Lady of Lallybroch was on the gallops when a voice cleared behind him and Jamie turned around to find Claire Beauchamp standing behind him. She was better dressed for the weather this time. Knee-high boots and a waxed jacket layered on top of a warm woolen sweater. Jamie smiled at the little pom pom on top of her winter hat and he was pleased to see Claire had had the sense to bring a good pair of leather gloves to keep the weather out.

“Murtagh said you’d be here," Claire explained.

“Aye.”

“Is this some super-secret training method I’m sworn to secrecy over?”

“Not really. Its no secret that she’s the best damn mare in the country. Won the Oaks. Beating colts left, right and centre. And if she could only stay past a mile and a half John and I would have put her up for the Saint Ledger’s.” Jamie turned away from watching Lady train and they fell into step together, beginning a slow stroll back to the main stable buildings. “She’s John’s horse. He wouldn’t mind.”

“John owns horses? I hadn’t realised.”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, “Its how we met.” He was tentative. Wary, with her. It mattered far too much to him what she thought. Of Jamie himself, of the stables, of his relationship with John. He wanted to please her, to meet with her approval. He wanted her to want to spend more time with him and Jamie had no idea how to go about doing that. “Are you here to see the colt?”

“No,” Claire replied with honesty.

The penny dropped, and a little flower of hope bloomed in Jamie’s chest. “Ah.”

  
They walked on together a little further, a stilted sort of silence forming between them that was half comfort and half awkwardness. The dampness of winter clung to everything, the skeleton shapes of the trees without leaves and the soft whickering of blanketed horses providing a soothing sort of atmosphere to a strained situation.

“I just...” Claire stopped suddenly. “Doesn’t it bother you?!”

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“I’ve been married before, you’re dating someone else...someone I happen to have slept with...”

“No. It doesn’t bother me. Maybe once, it might have. But its daft to expect anyone at our age not to have lived a little.”

They found a low, brick built wall and sat on it together.

“I’ll be perfectly honest with you, Jamie. I don’t know if I’m comfortable dating someone who might ask my permission to see or sleep with someone else. I don’t think that’s something I’m looking for. Or something I can live with.”

Jamie sighed long and hard. Perhaps they hadn’t been clear enough when Claire came around. That was probably Jamie’s fault. His tendency to err towards politeness that might have resulted in a vagueness that had clearly been misconstrued. “I think you’ve misunderstood something about me and John if you think that’s how things are between us. I don’t make a habit of talking about this but I can understand wanting to know what you’re getting into so, let me just say that like any relationship, things between us are negotiated. Its not a free for all.”

“Alright. Terms. There are terms,” Claire nodded. “Which are what, exactly.”

Jamie looked around, checking who else might be listening and when he saw no one he dropped his voice anyway, just in case. “Well if you must know John’s appetite and tastes are rather broader than my own in many respects but especially in matters of intimacy. John and I were friends for a long time before things became something more between us, although I think the feelings had been there for a long time. And once I understood that I couldn’t meet all of John’s needs in that way – and that I had no interest in doing so – it didn’t seem fair to stop him. I’m not saying it was easy, but it felt like the right thing to do. I don’t tend to ask about it much, and he keeps those liasons in London for my sake. But if I do ask he tells me.”

“And where do I fit into all of that? With John’s liasons, as you call them.”

“John’s liasons are purely physical. He’s never come home and told me he wants to pursue something with any of them. I suspect, sometimes, he does that on my account. Even if he is interested. So when you came along I told John I'd met someone and how much I wanted to see you...John agreed. I could see it wasn’t easy for him either but the agreement was that me seeing you was a bit of a quid pro quo. At least, while we see how it goes. John has his own life in London and I don't mind that as long he's safe. As for me, for what its worth, I think I've got my hands full with the stables and the two of ye. I cannae see myself having the time or inclination to start wandering,” Jamie told her with a smirk.

Well, to Claire it was a bit of a relief of sorts. Her worst nightmares in the moments after she had found out were of two cads arrogantly doing whatever they wanted no matter how many people got hurt. Or some sprawling network of polygamous relationships that Claire knew immediately was not something she wanted to be involved with even if it was how other people chose to live their lives. What Jamie described however, was something else. It was the core of a relationship with very strong foundations although somewhat unconventional in nature.

“And have you dated many men before John?”

“No,” Jamie turned to her, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I always dated women before.”

Claire mulled over all of this, sitting on the low wall at the Fraser stables looking out over the English countryside. “Did I tell you I’m going back to Uni?”

“Aye?”

“I was studying medicine, some years ago now. I dropped out when I married Frank and its not that I don’t have money but I think I need something to do. I’ve been looking at options. Nothing concrete yet but there’s plenty of places in the South East.”

“That sounds like a fine thing to do,” Jamie said with great seriousness. He looked at her, paused, and took in a deep breath. “Would you like to get some dinner, tonight, Claire?”

“I’m not sure I feel like eating out,” Claire said honestly. She saw Jamie’s face fall and realised he thought she was rejecting him. A gentle hand on his arm stilled him. “Give me some time?”

Jamie’s eyes were on her again. Watchful, wary, and then understanding. He gave her a nod, and forced a smile. “Aye. Ye need time to adjust. I can see that its been a lot to ask someone to accept.”

Even so, in Jamie found himself going over to John’s house anyway that night and reminiscing about the three of them sitting around the kitchen table. Was he completely mad, in thinking what he was thinking? For Jamie it made complete sense. It was clear that whatever happened between him and Claire, John was already involved. Whatever the final dynamic turned out to be, there were three of them in this relationship and the intricacies of that were things they would all need to work out together. When he phone John that night, however, John was not at all keen to be roped into Jamie’s relationship with Claire at the present time.

“I really don’t think I’m very popular with her right now, Jamie. And besides, I think it would be good for the two of you to get to know each other a little without me around.”

“John, I just think...” Jamie sighed. “John is three people something that ever works. Outside of porn videos and love triangles?” Jamie tailed off with a shrug.

At his lonely one bedroom flat in London, John’s eyebrows shot up. Of course, Jamie with his sheltered life could not have known just how common three person relationships were in some sections of the LGBTQIA community. In fact it was one of the issues some activists felt had been left behind in the drive for marriage equality. “Jamie, if your concerns are down to compatibility, let me categorically assure you that if Claire ever gets over the instinct to geld me on sight, we are in fact eminently compatible.”

John heard the echo of understanding at the other end of the line.

John chuckled. Oh, he could spar with Jamie for hours doing this. And when they got bored of that they played chess down the line, calling out moves to each other while they sat in their respective living rooms. John settled back on his sofa. “You asked if it ever works. Yes, Jamie. The answer is yes. There are people with three person relationships. And yes they make it work. But I think we shouldn’t try to run before we can walk.” John paused for a long moment. “You’re that sure of her?”

“I can’t tell you how, or why, but...aye, John.”

They played chess for a while, down the phone. Just enjoying each others company and talking of nothing in particular until they were nearing the end of their match when Jamie spoke about something that had been niggling at him for a while. “John, did I ever tell you I wanted children?”

“Yes.”

“When was that.”

“A couple of years ago. When your sister was pregnant. Jamie?”

“Aye.”

“I love you.”

Jamie wanted to kiss him but a voice down the line was the best he could do. “I love you too, John.”

  



	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

The winter tended to be a quiet time in the flat racing calendar. While there were still race meetings dotted around at courses up and down the country, most of the big important meetings tended to happen over the summer and for Jamie a few of his older horses had retired and the yearlings were being gently settled in before the serious work started after new year. It gave him a bit more time to focus on other matters and he spent some time the next day looking out his kilt outfit at his own place and checked it was all there and whether anything needed replaced or cleaned before getting out the silver polish to smarten up all the shiny bits. The belt buckle and kilt pin were silver, along with the buttons and the detail on his sgian dhu.

He was just finishing up when Murtagh invited himself into the kitchen and Jamie offered him a wee dram to warm him up.

“As long as the boss doesn’t find out,” Murtagh joked, accepting Jamie’s hospitality. “What’s that for?” Murtagh nodded at the polished buttons on the kilt jacket that was now hanging on the kitchen doorway.

“John’s invited me to accompany him to some work Do in London,” Jamie explained, pouring a matching dram for himself. “Murtagh I feel I owe you something of an apology. I’ve been so busy with John I’ve not been spending much time with you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. You’re as welcome at John’s as you are here, alright?”

Murtagh harrumphed and he took a sip of his dram. Dark eyes glancing up at Jamie in his usual surly manner. “You might have given me some sort of explanation, Laddie.”

“The truth is, there’s not much to explain, Murtagh. It just sort of happened. I think we’ve both been feeling this way for a while. It isn’t the easiest thing to come to terms with.”

“And where does the pretty Ms Beauchamp come into this?”

Jamie pulled a chair out and sat down. “Well...I might need ye to expand your horizons a bit for that one. I mean, its early days yet but...I like her very much.”

“And when are you planning on telling John ye’ve met someone else?”

“John knows all about Claire, Murtagh.”

Murtagh threw back his dram. “Yer father would be rolling in his grave.”

Jamie slammed his glass down. “Why? Because he never gave you the same option?” Jamie regretted it the moment the words came out of his mouth.

Murtagh stared at him long and hard. “I’ll say this, because you’re her son. And only once. Never presume to tell me that I would ever take any man’s word over Ellen Mackenzie’s, do you hear me boy?” Murtagh’s voice was cold and hard and uncompromising. Jamie backed down with an apology.

“Aye. You’re right, Murtagh. I’m sorry. If it makes ye feel any better I think I’m still waiting on hearing what Claire thinks about it all. There’s every chance are ye might not have to worry about it much longer anyway.”

When Murtagh took his leave Jamie sat in his kitchen looking at the christmas cards that had started to dribble in. Far flung second and third cousins dotted around the world whose exact connection was lost to the mists of time. Jenny and Ian’s. Ulysses and Aunt Jocasta’s. Jamie put the cleaning things away and gathered up the kilt outfit in the suit bag it was kept in and piled the cards on top. The more distant ones he would leave here. The most important ones, Jamie decided, would go to John’s house this year.

  


A long sleep, and a good breakfast did wonders for Claire’s spirits. She took herself off on a drive through the countryside. She stopped at a delicious little bistro for lunch and smiled when she was offered Christmas dinner. The thought occurred to her that she should maybe start her Christmas shopping but then, who was she going to shop for? Joe and his family deserved something. But as she watched a group of workmen outside her hotel window put up the christmas lights, Claire realised that it was going to be a short list this year. She wondered what to get Jamie and found herself putting on her jacket to drive over there. Claire found Jamie in the colt’s stall, gently moving a hand down the colt’s legs and watching the colt carefully for the young horse was jittery and nervous. The colt kept pulling his legs away, his eyes were flickering and his ears turned back. Jamie was making soft, soothing sounds and doing his best to relax the horse as he carried out the evening check on his legs and feet and then when he was done Jamie spent some time making a fuss of the horse, praising him and patting his neck.

It was the horse who noticed Claire first and Jamie looked up in response to the horse’s nervous cry.

“Oh. Its you.”

“Is he alright?”

“Aye, just a bit unsettled. Doesnae seem to be lame, as far as I can tell. He might just be settling in still. Or he might be lonely. I thought I might try giving him a stable mate, see if that helps.”

“A stable mate?”

“Some horses prefer company, that’s all. So ye can put another animal in with them – or in the next stall – and it helps them feel at ease. Something docile, preferably. Gentle and calm. Or simply stubborn enough to put up wi’ this lot.” Jamie nodded his head towards the colt but Claire had a feeling he was probably talking about all the thoroughbreds in the stable.

“Did you have an animal in mind?”

Jamie gave the horse one last pat and then let himself out of the stables. “Wait right there,” He told Claire with a conspiratorial smirk.

Jamie disappeared into the darkness of the late afternoon and came back a moment later, leading a large brown equine who was entirely different from any horse Claire had ever laid eyes on in her life.

“This is Clarence,” Jamie said, pausing by Claire for long enough for the two to greet each other and then he led Clarence into the colt’s stall and let him off the lead reign. He’s a mule we keep around to help keep the thoroughbreds calm.”

“What if they hate each other? What if they fight?”

Jamie watched the two horses, analysing their body language. “Ocht, nobody hates Clarence,” Jamie said, as if it was ridiculous to suggest such a thing. “I think we’ll be fine. We’ll give them an hour or so to be sure.”

  


Claire admittedly didn’t know much about horses, but she did notice a change in the colt’s stance at Clarence’s arrival. A difference in the way he carried his head. His ears settling down and came forwards and the two horses had their noses pressed together in a way that at least seemed friendly. Within moments the two were happily munching away at the hay net side by side.

“That’s better,” Jamie said. “If they settle in fine I’ll have a groom come round and take the halters off before the staff leave for the night. You know, we’ve got to consider security as well. As much as I might like the notion of heading over to John’s place every night we like to have someone sleeping on site at least some of the time. Generally speaking if I’m not here Murtagh is. Or one of the staff. Horses do get stolen, unfortunately.”

“I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“I don’t mean to concern you. We have security lights and some CCTV that can be monitored from the office here or over at the house and generally speaking thoroughbreds are a bad bet. If you’re going to steal something you want it to be something that’s not too eye catching, something everyday. Thoroughbreds are documented up to the eyeballs. Although tack and trailers can get targeted too. Its good to be a wee bitty cautious, is all.”

“I understand,” Claire nodded. “So, is that you done for the night?”

“Well, all the horses are stabled and getting their evening feed. The staff are cleaning the tack and finishing up for the night. There’s final checks to be done in an hour or so but I can delegate that. Why?”

“I was wondering if I could persuade you to come back to my hotel for dinner?”

It was an offer that was not unwelcome to Jamie, but that was still somehow unexpected. He found himself smiling down at Claire who looked for all the world slightly nervous and hopeful. “I’m not saying I’m ready to throw myself in at the deep end with this, Jamie, but maybe we could start with paddling?”

Jamie paused for a moment to take her in. All wrapped up for the cold weather, eyes shining bright. The faintest dusting of freckles lingering on her nose that had been brought out by the autumn sunshine and had yet to fade as winter drew in. Her hair was tied up underneath the warm hat she wore, but a lock here or there tumbled down in wee curls like the way water rippled over stones in a highland burn. The peat in the water leaving shades of ochres and browns. Her eyes the colour of whisky. Warm and bright and enticing. “Aye, I can do that.”

  



	35. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

“I could give you a lift?”

Jamie knew what that meant. It was an invitation to stay for the night. An invitation he wasn’t sure if he was ready to accept. He took a step closer and watched Claire’s body language for any objection. When none came he lifted a hand and caressed her cheek.

Claire’s eyes closed at the tenderest brush of Jamie’s hand that sent tingles racing all through her body. She wanted him to kiss her but he was too damned tall for her to do it herself and he seemed content to stare at her and toy with an errant curl of her hair.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get a table. I’ll finish up here and follow you once I’ve had a shower.”

Claire wished she could find some way to object but she understood Jamie’s obligations to his work and he wasn’t wrong about the shower. On the one hand, there was something strangely appealing about the mixed blend of horse smells, sawdust, leather, feed and sweat. It was the smell of hard work, of physical and mental strength. On the other hand, it probably was best to let Jamie have a shower after mucking about in horse stalls all day.

  


What Claire didn’t know was that as she sat in her hotel room a while later trying to decide which pair of earrings to wear, Jamie was standing in his bedroom at his place with John on speaker. At first when they had gotten together Jamie hadn’t wanted to bother John in London and had avoided calling him too often. Now that things had settled down a bit they spoke most days and Jamie valued John’s advice when his head was full of smart ideas and entirely lacking in common sense.

“Wear the blue shirt,” John told him. “It brings out your eyes. And a waistcoat if you really want to knock her out.”

“First the kilt and now this. Why do I get the feeling you have a thing about me in waistcoats?”

“Because I have a thing about you waistcoats,” John replied honestly, “And riding boots.”

Jamie snorted and shook his head. Until now the thought of being involved two people at the same time was an odd notion to entertain that had left him worrying about what to do. Now for the first time a new thought entered his head, the notion of being outnumbered by other people in the relationship in a way that was entirely strange and new. He could just imagine standing in some future bedroom with John and Claire insisting he wear the shirt they both liked over the polo neck Jamie thought was comfortable. Outnumbered and outclassed, that’s what that would be. And loved. Cared for. Looked after. The comfort of that thought, made him stop. The comfort of being surrounded by people you loved.

“I am absolutely not wearing riding boots,” Jamie insisted.

John sighed dramatically. “More’s the pity. Wear your brown chelsea boots then.”

Jamie had spent most of his adult life on his own. His parents had never been the same since two of his siblings had died in a tragic accident in their youth. Then Jamie’s own parents had passed away in the following years. His mother when he was in high school, his father stuck it out until Jamie had finished his schooling. There was illness, of course, but Jamie suspected that grief and loss played no small part in his parents parting from the world.

Left as the head of the family in her early twenties, Jenny Murray had married young and taken over the family homestead and started to raise a family. His sister had done a fine job but there was a reason Jamie had ended up basing himself at the other end of the country. They fought like cats and dogs. He missed his parents, and his siblings, and he didn’t have the comfort of a family of his own to go home to at the end of the day. Jamie had learned to fend for himself, emotionally. And for a couple of years he’d been in and out of work, moving around a lot and prone to picking fights which had gotten him in trouble more than once. There had been some dating, but it had never worked out. The work in horses had come by chance, a skill so second nature from his childhood he didn’t even bother mentioning it and gradually, over the years, he had made a name for himself. And yet the feeling remained. Lost, alone, out on a limb by himself.

For the first time in his adult life Jamie realised that had all changed, and could potentially change more still. John had been a friend to Jamie for a long time. Maybe that was why it was easy to let John in. He understood loss as much as anyone, especially the profound hole of grief that resulted from the loss of your parents. The feeling of being adrift in the world. John had been a life raft, but in time it had become something more. For a moment Jamie paused and as John rattled away about some family matter relating to Hal, his mind drifted to the way John’s whole face lit up every time Jamie walked into the room. How handsome John looked clean shaven. How cuddly he looked in a sweater and socks, sleeves pushed up the elbows as he puttered about the kitchen.

  


As Jamie dressed to go to his dinner with Claire two thoughts came to mind. The first thought was that, like with John, Jamie was going to have to try and find a way to let Claire in if this thing between them had any future. The other thought was the realisation of just how much he wanted that tantilising glimpse of the future that his mind had conjured for him. He could see Claire in his future, like a doorway left ajar. The prospect of having that security, that love between the three of them. That safety net. That cushion. That rock.

It was an entirely different way of living than Jamie had ever experienced. Even with John in his life, John spent much of his time in London. But with three of them there would be a new sort of interconnectedness. If Claire wanted that.

Claire. She was the unknown quantity here. Jamie might be quite sure of the future he wanted with her but Claire had had her own complicated challenges in life. He reminded himself to be patient. Give her time. Listen.

It wasn’t so different from dealing with horses really.

  


He threw on a warm winter peacoat and scarf and made the short drive to Claire’s hotel. The staff there greeted him by name and showed him into the bar where Claire was waiting. She looked stunning, of course. A plain silk gown that draped down the length of her body almost indecently. Jamie had the distinct urge to offer her his coat, but it was ladies choice and she was with him tonight and he was the envy of every other bloke in the room – and a few ladies too, apparently. So Jamie smiled and kissed her cheek and told her how stunning she looked and failed not to stare at the delicate chain of the diamond inlaid pendant that draped around her neck, or the matching diamond earrings, or the way her hair was sort of tied up in a way that made you want to pinch the clasp and let it all tumble down around your fingers.

“Ye look stunning, Claire.”

“Thank you,” She accepted the compliment and took the arm that Jamie offered.

“Are ye not cold.”

“Maybe a little,” Claire’s eyes lingered on Jamie’s as he lifted the scarf from around his neck and draped it gently around her shoulders. It was one of his tartan ones – Fraser, he realised. Old Fraser, with the beautiful dun colours of the heather. It made his heart clench, missing Scotland just to look at it. But like many other Scots, Jamie had long ago resigned himself to the fact of life that his future economic prospects lay far from home. In the last few years it looked liked things were beginning to change in that respect. The traditional exodus of the young school leavers to London and Manchester and Birmingham was dwindling and people were beginning to move back as the economy prospered and democracy flourished at the Scottish Parliament that had been reconvened not a few years before.

“We’ll find a nice warm spot by the fire, then,” Jamie told Claire. Indeed, a quiet word with the proprietor and Jamie got his table of choice, a table of two near the coveted blazing fire where large logs crackled and the mesmirising ripple of heat, of black charcoalled wood and glowing orange rippling through the cracks.

  



	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

They had soup for starter, salmon for the main and polished it off with lemon posset for dessert rounded off with a short espresso coffee and plenty of sugar. Claire couldn’t help but notice that they were getting a few looks and made a quiet comment on it to Jamie.

“I’m not out much. Must be the curiosity, I expect.”

Claire knew Jamie spoke with honesty, but she was under no illusions. The dress she had worn to impress was catching eyes, but she hadn’t really considered just how much attention they would get given Jamie’s status in the town. Well known, respected. “I’m sorry, I should have dressed more appropriately.”

“Don’t apologise, ye look right bonnie,” Jamie reached out a hand his fingers gently touching the soft skin on the back of her palm that felt so sensitive and Claire shuddered at the sensation. “Ladies choice,” He said with a smirk.

It made Claire smile. Oh, she was taken with him. His physicality, yes. His height, his physique, his masculine form but also Jamie’s warmth and sense of humour and honour.

Yes, Honour.

John too.

It was an old fashioned notion these days, but Claire realised that’s what this was and maybe that was why Claire felt she could trust him. Trust him with her colt, of course, but trust him with herself as well.

They talked for a while longer and then Claire requested the bill and insisted they split it two ways.

“Ladies choice,” Claire tipped her head at him, throwing Jamie’s words back at him in a way that made him laugh.

“Aye,” Jamie chuckled, “I can’t fault ye there. Although honour requires I let you know I’d pay the whole lot if you let me.”

“Well then, I’m afraid you shall just have to endure the indignity.”

Jamie would do so willingly, again and again, for an evening of Claire’s company. There was a peace when he was with her, a calmness to the soul. John was warmth and caring and comfort but Claire was calm and healing and peace. He thought about her going back to university and considered that it would suit her very well, that sort of life.

They left the dining room together, under the watchful gaze of most of the other diners and out in the hallway Claire quietly invited Jamie up to her rooms and Jamie quietly declined. “I will escort ye up if ye would permit me but I cannae stay.”

“Is this another honour thing because, trust me on this, there is no honour required here.”

Jamie watched her eyes carefully, searchingly, as one hand reached up and caressed her cheek. Claire’s face leaned into the touch, her eyes half closed and her mouth hung open in a small gasp. “Dinnae take it as a slight, Sassenach. I told you, John and I are different about these things.”

Claire looked at him curiously, her brows drawing together as she tried to work out his meaning but Jamie wouldn’t reveal any more, only offering his arm and they went upstairs together to Claire’s rooms where she let herself in and then stood in the doorway hoping Jamie would change his mind.

Jamie only stood and smiled and drank in her face and her eyes and her body and her hair and wished – a tiny part of him – that he wasn’t the way that he was. “Ye probably think that I’m doing this to be a gentleman, or that its some sort of failing on your part and I want ye to know that its not. And when I feel ready I’ll explain it to ye. Can you live with that?”

“If I must.”

“I’ll say goodnight then,” Jamie saw Claire take an eager step closer and reckoned he could probably about manage this bit. Her hand hooked around his neck and Jamie let her draw his head down to hers, lips to lips. An intake of breath, a warm wet kiss and then, parting, Jamie took one step back and then two. His hand slid out from around her waist and he turned around and walked down the stairs.

Another visitor appeared, a man who was dressed in black jeans and a button down shirt who looked Claire up and down and wolf whistled at her for the benefit of a laugh with a nearby mate wearing a paisley pattern shirt and too much hair product. On Jamie’s arm it felt special. Nice. Flattering. Without him present the same looks suddenly felt greasy and unwanted.

Claire rolled her eyes and slammed closed her door. She knew now how his body felt close, the heat and presence of him. The shape of his pectoral muscles where he let her put her hands. The feel of his arm around her waist. The way he smiled when Claire kissed him. A spark of jealousy pierced her heart that John Grey got to have Jamie in his life every day of the week and yet chose to bugger off to London for days at a time. But Claire knew it was irrational. People made all sorts of arrangements work to balance their private and professional lives and John and Jamie seemed to be genuinely making an effort to be open with her. Still, Claire could feel the echo of the promise of a night of welcome skin-on-skin, of kissing and touching and learning each other. Claire could already see for herself how different the two men were. John was overtly sexual but Jamie, Claire suspected Jamie might have a closet sensual side. The way he used his hands, even the way he kissed. Claire got ready for bed and lay awake, daydreaming her desires and then with a sigh she turned on her side and made an effort to try and fall asleep.

Perhaps she should go to London for a few days herself. Visit the parks and museums. Clean the house. Buy groceries. Claire’s mind made up, she did precisely this and tried to fill her days with useful and productive things. She cooked and cleaned. Claire read a book and worked on admin at home and visited an exhibition. It was the things one was supposed to want to do, the things she had spent years using to fill time with Frank out at work and Claire had never felt more empty.

When she got back home Claire discovered the post had arrived and she picked it up passively, her mind drifting to the regular London functions Frank had frequently attended during his life. Claire had usually spent such evenings with a glass of wine in her hand, smiling politely and trying to cling onto the last remnants of sanity. It was perfectly clear to her that she was there for show and nothing more, that Frank had no desire to have her actually know people from work and actively discouraged Claire from doing any socialising that did not involve Claire standing silently while Frank talked to people. It went without saying that Claire had never exactly been close to Frank’s work colleagues and, indeed, had long ago stopped bothering to care about what his work actually involved. She knew what she needed to. It was easier if she didn’t know the women’s names, or their husbands. If she didn’t know whether he did it by choice or because his bosses ordered him in some sort of twisted, ‘lie back and think of England’ routine. Whether he really was a high-flying officer in government intelligence or whether he was an also-ran Whitehall administrator with too many fantasies.

Claire didn’t know, and she didn’t really care. She wanted to move on, to forget about Frank and start a new life. But as Claire sorted through the mail there was one that made her pause. The paper was heavy with a cream tint and a water mark. High quality unlike the others made from standard office paper. Claire opened it up and her heart sank.

 


	37. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus update. Have a lovely day. :)

**Chapter 36**

She was cordially invited…

Words stood out to her. _In memoriam. The late Francis Randall...to accept on his behalf…_

Claire rolled her eyes. It must have been a last minute decision she supposed. Frank’s boss had hated her and Claire had regularly been chastised by Frank for speaking out too much or having actual opinions. She supposed that someone had probably bullied them into inviting her and wondered briefly who that might have been. Had the invitation never come Claire would have felt no slight. As it was she had absolutely no desire to go but she supposed that one had to at least keep up appearances. Well, at least it was something else to do for an evening to distract her from the mess of John Grey and Jamie Fraser.

She wondered how that was supposed to work anyway. Claire dating Jamie. Jamie dating John. Jamie joking _joking_ about John and Claire’s previous liason. A curious part of her indulged and after dinner she spent some part of the evening looking up pornography. Much of it seemed to cater to bizarre male fantasies but in one video in particular the woman seemed to be having a very good time with the two men attending to her.

Claire shut the laptop. What was she thinking? This was absurd. And she had definitely not had enough wine for these thoughts. She poured herself another glass and switched on the telly to some awful mindless soap and told herself to stop it.

  


After the awkward end to the date with Claire, Jamie had taken a few days to focus on work. He had a horse going to a winter meeting some distance across the country and with being away for a couple of days, and then catching up with events at the stables when he got back, it was no time before it was the weekend and John was back from London. As he pulled into the drive Jamie could see the kitchen light was on, the smell of woodsmoke was drifting out the chimney and even out here you could hear the christmas music John was singing along to on the radio.

Jamie let himself in and stood, smiling, in the kitchen doorway at the sight of John in his formal trousers, shirt sleeves rolled up, singing and cooking and so at home. When he saw Jamie his face lit up and John’s warm hands gravitated to the red of Jamie’s cold cheeks from an afternoon spent out in the cold. Their arms slid around each other, bodies pressing together and John turned his lips and kissed the base of Jamie’s ear as they held each other.

“By God, I missed you, James Fraser.”

They hugged until Jamie suggested the dinner might be burning and John rushed back to the cooker to save the fish pie from the oven. The cheese on top of the potato mash was a little on the crispy side but Jamie insisted he liked it that way anyway. As John finished off the peas, Jamie laid the table and lit the candles and poured them both wine. They talked about the news cycle and their collective lack of progress on Christmas shopping. Only when they sat down and Jamie was dishing out the delicious smelling fish pie did John point out the obvious.

“You haven’t told me how the date went yet. And you didn’t call me, which you promised to do.”

“I know, John. I’m sorry.”

“That bad was it?”

“I wouldnae say bad, exactly. Actually she seemed to be doing everything in her power to get me to stay but...” Jamie shook his head hopelessly and then a smile broke onto his face at the memory of her. “She wore one of those silk gowns that clings to everything. I’m telling you John it was almost indecent. Every bloke and most of the women were staring at her. Not that she’s not worth staring at...” Jamie tilted his head, thoughtfully. “We got a table by the fire and, aye it went fine. Well, even. God, I could talk to her all day, John. There’s an ease wi’ Claire. Do you know what I mean? Sorta like how it is wi’ you.” Jamie toyed with the stem of his wineglass, his mind lost in the memories. The way she smiled, the way she laughed. Her sharp wits and the unapologetic set to her shoulders that he admired. Strength. Aye, that. “I cannae even think the last time I felt like that wi’ a woman. And afterwards I walked her to her room and she invited me in but, well in truth I couldnae find the words to explain myself to her so I turned her down and I’m not sure she liked that very much.”

John took a large sip of wine. “So naturally, you picked up the phone the next day and smoothed everything out?”

Jamie cleared his throat.

“You do realise you have to tell her sooner or later.”

Jamie shook his head. “Women look at a man who looks like me and they have expectations, John. They expect you to know what to do and know what they like and how to touch them. They expect you to want it – to want them.”

“That’s not women, Jamie, that’s just people.”

“People who aren’t like me,” Jamie pressed.

John abandoned the table and pulled Jamie by the hand over to the couch where they sat down together and got out the chess board. It was getting late and Jamie would be getting tired soon but John didn’t want to go to bed without sorting a bit more of this out. They got out the pieces, sorting them into black and white and placing them one by one into their starting positions.

It always reminded Jamie slightly of a line of horses at a starting gate.

“I would advise honesty, Jamie. Wherever possible.”

Jamie thought about that for a while, watching John. The way he moved. The familiarity of his movements, his footfall, his smile. The way Jamie wanted to kiss him. To hear him laugh. To watch that overwhelmed look on John’s face when Jamie made an unexpected overture of intimacy. “John, can I ask ye a question?”

“Of course,” John said. It was a casual reply, off the cuff, while he settled the last pieces on the board. Jamie watched him carefully.

“What was it like, wi’ her?”

“What do you mean what was it like?” John hadn’t met Jamie’s eyes and didn’t look up until he was finished.

Jamie, when John met his eyes, gave his partner a meaningful look and John’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“You’ve never once asked me about one of my liasons. Why start now?”

“You know why,” Jamie responded quietly. He turned the board so the black was towards him. “You alright if we switch?”

They had played opposite colours last time and so John agreed, wondering all the time if Jamie understood his unwitting double-entendre. Perhaps not. He was still new to some of the terminology common amongst gay men, after all. Being with Jamie required patience beyond anything John had ever experienced in his life and yet, John would do anything Jamie asked for the privilege of sitting here in his company. In his life.

“It was passionate,” John said quietly. “Fun. Intense. Claire is a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t gentle about it.” He made his opening and watched Jamie respond with the French defence. John watched Jamie’s eyes, watching the man’s mind at work but the words were not forthcoming.

“Are you planning on sharing your thoughts any time soon or am I to be kept in the dark the whole night?”

Jamie looked up at John with a slow, sly, cunning, glint in his eyes and said nothing.

  


  



	38. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been on annual leave and have had a bit more time to write and update than usual. So as a small thank you for all the weekends I wasn't able to update, for sticking with it, for all the positivity and because you're all such brilliant readers and because I love having the time to give this whole writing-updating-responding to comments thing the attention it deserves for once...here's a surprise mid-week update. This chapter is NSFW.

**Chapter 37**

Only later, when they were upstairs did John learn what the glint meant. Upstairs with his pyjama trousers round his ankles and Jamie kneeling before him rolling a condom onto John’s cock.

“Don’t take it too deep,” John breathed in, slow and steady.

In an ideal world they would have talked about his. Or John would have offered some helpful hints about breathing. But in reality none of it mattered. It wasn’t the most technically proficient blowjob John had ever received but none of that mattered either. Jamie was trying, for him. And so John tried too. Tried to hold himself together, tried to stay calm.

Jamie wasn’t sure that he liked the feel of another man’s cock in his mouth – even John’s – and he didn’t like the taste of the latex. He would be honest with himself about that. On his ever-expanding list of things he had tried with John, Jamie would admit this came fairly low when it came to personal enjoyment of the experience.

But the way John reacted, oh Jamie could understand why people did this. The power. John was a puddle of goo, putty in his hands, mumbling things and muttering half-complete sentences. He could only imagine what it was like when it was skin on skin, if his tongue touched the sensitive spot under the head or John’s foreskin moved freely under his hand.

John’s hand carded in his hair and dark, half-gone eyes stared down at Jamie. Remembering something, Jamie felt about behind his balls until he found a spot that made John say unspeakable things and made Jamie chuckle. John was done for and Jamie was unrelenting. John came long and hard with a cry of Jamie’s name and a twisted expression of orgasm on his face. John couldn’t stop burying his fingers in Jamie’s hair and when he found his tongue again his lust-addled eyes never left Jamie.

“Jamie...”

Jamie took off the condom, grabbed his pyjama bottoms and bundled them both into bed - noting the way John curled into Jamie’s body and pressed his face into Jamie’s neck. Jamie made no complaint that John needed him. He needed John too.

“...thank you.”

“Its nothing that you haven’t done for me,” Jamie pointed out quietly. “I’m not sure I enjoy the taste of rubber though.”

“We’ll get flavoured condoms.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, thinking quietly that it might be worth trying it without condoms at all, but he understood why John insisted on it.

Jamie kissed John’s hair and stroked his back. The long, slim, smooth back of a grown up public school boy, an upbringing of vast quantities of exercise and sparse portions of food, by all accounts. They were different in that way. John was slim, like an athlete. Jamie made an effort to work on his strength, to help with the endless lifting and carrying. Bales of straw, sacks of feed, saddles and tack and riding accoutrements never mind manhandling the actual horses themselves. John worked more of a desk job these days, but Jamie knew he looked after himself and liked to go running to clear his head and keep himself fit. Jamie could see it in the smooth way his shoulder blades moved, the curve of his calves.

Jamie had to admit he had a soft spot for a good leg. He didn’t like skinny legs, he liked a bit of muscle on them. A good round arse.

“What are you thinking about so loudly?”

“How much I like your runner’s legs. And a nice round arse,” Jamie admitted with a chuckle.

“Ah, so he’s human after all,” John teased Jamie. “Now we know what attracted you to the good Widow Randall.”

“Stuff and nonsense, John.” Jamie insisted.

“Ah, but you forget I’ve seen said arse,” John smiled and kissed Jamie’s chest. “And I can’t fault your taste. Did you know in the eighteenth century footmen used to get hired on the shapeliness of their calves? I believe it was thought a good calf should have a nice...bulge.”

“Next you’ll be telling me guys were stuffing things down there to make them look bigger.”

John lifted his head, and propped his chin on Jamie’s chest and raised an eyebrow meaningfully. Moments later a deep, happy rumble of laughter escaped out of John at the way Jamie rolled his eyes, but Jamie was smiling and that was what mattered.

“Ye need a shave, yer stubble’s scratching.”

John stretched like a cat and caught his jaw on one of Jamie’s sensitive nipples making Jamie take in a sharp breath.

“Can’t take ye anywhere, can I?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, since I appear to have no practical experience of having been taken by you anywhere.”

“I will. I promise. We’ll go to the theatre next week when I come down to London wi’ ye.”

John rubbed his legs against Jamie’s. Enjoying the feeling of bodily warmth. It was winter and it was cold but that didn’t stop roaming hands creeping underneath the covers for warmth – or other things. “Jamie?”

“Aye.”

“When we have children, I don’t think I want to commute to London anymore. I think I’d rather stay at home.”

Jamie’s brows drew together. He took in a deep breath and held it, his mind turning. “When?” Jamie asked tentatively.

“When,” John insisted.

“A-are we getting married before this happens?”

“Was that a proposal?”

“I don’t know,” Jamie pulled away from John and propped his head up on his side. “I just think there should be a marriage before there’s children, don’t you? At least now it’s legal for us.” Only as he said those words did something in Jamie click mental pieces together in his mind. When the whole debate over marriage equality had been happening Jamie hadn’t paid much attention to it. He had had no particular view one way or the other, although he had known the matter was close to John’s heart. Only at the point of hearing the words come out of his own mouth did Jamie realise that law now applied to him.

Beside him, John found Jamie’s left hand and brought it to his lips, softly kissing the fourth finger just below the knuckle. “Perhaps we should see how things play out with Claire first,” John said, but he was smiling in a way that Jamie had never seen him smile and Jamie couldn’t stop staring at him. But John’s words had put a thought in his head that hadn’t been there before. What if things with Claire became serious. Where did that put him with John?

“Aye. That’s a point. What if Claire’s involvement changes things?” Jamie asked.

“Then it changes things.”

“John-”

“We don’t need to decide right away,” John leaned in and kissed Jamie and their lips melted together, turning a chaste kiss into a french kiss and they broke apart, breathing softly and then kissed again with soft, sensuous lips and small sighs and warm gliding hands. John’s hands creeping under Jamie’s pyjamas once more...hopefully.

Jamie leaned back down against the pillows, letting John have his fun. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant anyway. “You’re right. My sister would go spare if we got engaged after two months. I’m not sure your brother would be any happier.”

“Hal likes you.”

“Wheesht!” Jamie laughed happily and finally swatted John’s hand away but pulled John into him all the same. “I have to get up at four. Go to sleep.”

In spite of John’s insistence that he was going to return the favour as soon as Jamie felt like it, John was sound asleep when Jamie got up for work and he carefully tucked the duvet around John and kissed his forehead.

“Jamie?”

“Go back to sleep.”

Jamie watched to check that John was settled and then then padded through to the shower with a smile on his face. A bubble of happiness had wrapped itself around his heart. To Jamie’s surprise John came over to his place around nine o’clock with half a dozen eggs and a packet of bacon from the local butcher and Jamie, John and Murtagh shared a slightly awkward breakfast in Jamie’s kitchen.

After, John went back home insisting that he had to finish some paperwork while Jamie went back to work and then they cooked dinner together at John’s place after work. Home life, when John was here, was a new life for Jamie. A life full of hugs and kisses and love. Warm eyes, and John’s warm heart. They sat drinking whisky and playing chess in front of the fire and Jamie’s mind wandered to Claire. His mind imagined her in the comfortable armchair across the room, curled up with a blanket and a cat and a big medical textbook.

That night, Jamie stripped John when they got upstairs and backed him up to the bed. John looked slightly taken aback but as soon as Jamie touched him John’s eyes closed in rapture and his hands pulled Jamie closer. Kissing, groping, their bodies pressed up against each other Jamie and John fell onto the bed. The lube from the bedside drawer was cold but the heat of their bodies soon warmed it up as they rutted against each other until John slid a hand between them and took them both in hand together.

Jamie groaned deliciously and buried his face in John’s neck, worrying his teeth at the skin. “Aye, just like that.” He moved with John’s touch, enjoying the sensation. It was rushed and passionate and ended in a tangled heap of bodies, skin, semen and laughter. When Jamie realised he was half lying on top of John he made to get off, but John stopped him.

“Stay. Just for a moment.”


	39. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone caught up with the bonus updates this week. If not, happy reading.

  


**Chapter 38**

Claire spent the weekend doing what London was best for – shopping. An official function required an official outfit. Black was the obvious choice. Appropriately demure and sombre but with plenty of room for a touch of class. It had to be evening wear, so obviously a full length gown was required and all the accoutrements: dressy shoes, jewellery, a clutch. A wrap, shawl or jacket. Make up. Hair.

Claire made an appointment at her favourite hairdresser’s and remembered not to wash her hair so it was easier to style. The gown would need to be just right and if she had the time Claire thought she might enjoy shopping for it herself but she didn’t. And so she did the next best thing and looked up agencies and found a stylist with good reviews who immediately dragged her off to a lingerie boutique for a bra fit and persuaded Claire about the benefits of spandex. Apparently before there was a dress there had to be the right underwear. Decisions about stockings versus tights and the feasibility of going to the loo in a ballgown balanced against the already complicated underwear layers.

Claire reminded herself what this was all for, forced herself to be patient and pulled out her bank card at the end of it all. Bags in hand they jumped in a taxi to a series of modestly sized designer places, up and coming London fashion names rather than the flashy Italian and French brands. Somehow, although it should have been easy enough, nothing Claire saw was what she had in mind. One place after another was visited until Claire was all but exhausted until finally she saw her dress and knew it was exactly what she was after. A simple, elegant, floor length dress cut on the bias and tailored in just the right way so that it clung to what Claire knew was her best feature, her shapely hips. It had enough shoulder strap to be slightly more demure than the open shoulders of many ballgowns, and enough cleavage on show to remind Frank’s former colleagues that it was her husband who was dead and not Claire herself. The new bra somehow gave her waist added definition and the dress was without any sleeves that would leave her sweating in a room packed with people. Claire nodded approvingly at the hourglass figure that stared back at her.

As it was December, Claire accessorised it with a warm pashmina, patent black leather heels and a black satin clutch. A last minute trip to Bond Street added the final touch – a new diamond necklace and matching earrings for just the right touch of class. Claire couldn’t deny that Jamie Fraser’s unexpected refusal had knocked her confidence a bit, but when Claire finally tried everything on together back at the flat, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.

  


Between work and preparation, the weekend seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. Before Jamie knew where he was he and John were over at his place packing their bags and talking to Murtagh about keeping an eye on things. As the owner of Fraser Stables, Jamie didn’t exactly get much in the way of annual leave in the way his employees did, but he was taking a few personal days to go with John to London and then there would be a couple of weeks of business-as-usual before Jamie took eight or nine days off over the holidays to head north, planning on heading up to Lallybroch in time for Christmas Eve. He’d get up at the usual time and leave about five o’clock. At a drive of around ten hours Jamie would hopefully get there by mid-afternoon and stay for week and a bit, coming back at the beginning of January once his Hogmanay hangover had worn off.

  


An hour or so before they finally set off for London on Sunday morning – much earlier than John usually travelled on his own – Jamie picked up the phone and dialled Claire. It went to answerphone but he left her a message.

“Hi, Claire, its Jamie. I thought it was maybe best to give ye a few days although John says I’m a dolt and should’a called ye. Well anyway, the horse is fine. He’s taken to Clarence. Thick as thieves, those two.” Jamie paused, realising he was killing for time. “Claire, I hope you’re well and I wanted ye to know that I’m sorry if I hurt ye and I would very much like to see you again. John and I will be in London for the next few days so maybe you can spare the time for a coffee or if not I’ll maybe see ye next time ye come up.” Jamie felt John’s presence and looked up to find John watching him, a new expression on his face. It was warm, and loving and proud and John slid his hand into Jamie’s, watching Jamie intently as he finished the phone call.

“Are we all set?” Jamie asked John.

“I think so.”

“Who’s driving?”

“I’ll drive,” John offered. He looked at Jamie for a long moment, taking in the worry in his face and the way Jamie’s hand rumpled his hair. “We all have our secrets, Jamie. There’ll be a time to tell her.”

Jamie patted John on the shoulder in a gesture of thanks for his support and handed over the car keys. The concept that his sexuality was some sort of label other people would apply to him before they knew him was still at the forefront of his mind. Having always thought himself rather ordinary, he now found himself dating both a man and a woman and identifying as asexual. He liked intimacy with John, but Jamie knew his motivation for doing so was different to most people and he hadn’t yet found the words for how to explain it all to Claire, no matter how much he liked her.

“Stop worrying,” John urged him as they stood on either side of the car.

“That obvious is it?” Jamie buried his fingers in his hair. It was getting longer. John liked it that way although Jamie was sure he would have to make some sort of effort at taming it for the big official function.

Murtagh appeared one last time to wave them off, and Jamie hugged the man and they exchanged a quiet word of parting in Gaelic. Murtagh was doing his duty in looking after the stable and Jamie was intensely grateful. Without the loyalty of the staff, Jamie knew there was no way he could run the place by himself.

  


The drive felt longer than it needed to be and yet quieter than any other time of the week. In reality the distance was not so far but the traffic on the roads and the insane driving of a number of other road users made the journey far more stressful than it needed to be. Tailgating, lane hogging, cars cutting each other up and a few near-misses accident wise all made Jamie feel like they were lucky to get to John’s pad in once piece. They found a parking space on the street and Jamie was glad that John was driving when he saw the expensive cars lining the street all very tightly parallel parked with scant inches in between. The street was quiet, everyone keeping to themselves. Pedestrians kept their heads down and ignored each other as they passed. Neighbours rarely said hello. Far off however, the regular noises of any city could be heard. Cars. Traffic. Sirens.

Jamie stopped for a moment to take it all in. The regular pattern of pavement tiles and streetlights. The plane trees. The ubiquitous clay brickwork. The way the air clung damp and cold low to the ground like standing in a bog.

It could only be London in winter.

  


Inside, the double glazing on the windows dulled the sound of the city somewhat and the half-closed Venetian blinds combined with a couple of table lamps on timers, prevented anyone on the street outside from telling of the residence went unoccupied for days at a time.

Jamie had been here before, but it felt different now. Now that he was here _with_ John and not as a friend. While John went around checking everything was as it should be Jamie took their bags into the bedroom. It was a modest flat, a single bedroom, a small shower room, a kitchen-living room with a pull-out sofa-bed that Jamie had slept on many a time.

Jamie put the bags on the bed and pulled the curtains closed, thinking about the simple domesticity and familiarity of knowing whose side of the bed was whose. Jamie took his wash kit to the bathroom only to find that John already had his brand of toothbrush and shampoo and razor there waiting for him. Jamie snorted and repacked his wash kit and then went to find John in the kitchen who was sorting through the mail while the kettle boiled.

Jamie leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking fondly at the man before him.

John, sensing Jamie’s presence, looked up and smiled in that way of his, his whole face lighting up at Jamie’s presence and when Jamie stepped towards him John melted into his arms. Jamie’s arms wound around John’s waist and their lips gravitated together in a warm kiss and a sigh.

  



	40. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any inconsistencies between this chapter and any earlier chapter discussion of evening wear. I made a last minute creative decision to change the dress from black to white tie and had a bit of fun with revising the clothing as a result.

_Jamie put the bags on the bed and pulled the curtains closed, thinking about the simple domesticity and familiarity of knowing whose side of the bed was whose. Jamie took his wash kit to the bathroom only to find that John already had his brand of toothbrush and shampoo and razor there waiting for him. Jamie snorted and repacked his wash kit and then went to find John in the kitchen who was sorting through the mail while the kettle boiled._

_Jamie leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking fondly at the man before him._

_John, sensing Jamie’s presence, looked up and smiled in that way of his, his whole face lighting up at Jamie’s presence and when Jamie stepped towards him John melted into his arms. Jamie’s arms wound around John’s waist and their lips gravitated together in a warm kiss and a sigh._

 

**Chapter 39**

“Thank you,” Jamie said solemnly.

“For what?”

“For being you,” Jamie grasped John’s hand and squeezed it and looked deeply into John’s eyes. “I’m going to get ready.”

 

In the modestly sized flat there was no particular way of having much separate space for dressing. Jamie took the first shower and John the second. John had his evening tailcoat laid out and matching dress trousers and silk boxers. Dress shirt, studs and cufflinks. White marcella waistcoat and bow tie. Finely woven black evening dress socks and patent leather black dress shoes with black ribbon laces completed the standard mens 'white tie' evening dress.

Jamie’s outfit was if possible, considerably more complicated. Of course, John had encountered many a Scot in his time in the military and it was far from the first time he had seen someone dressed in a kilt but he had never had the privilege, he had to admit, of _watching_ someone dress in such a thing. Jamie had put together his own outfit comprising a dress kilt and formal kilt pin with a seal fur, silver-mounted tasselled sporran and silver-buckled belt. As with John's own evening attire, there was the dress shirt with studs instead of buttons and folded cuffs with cufflinks that were refusing to be wrangled into submission.

“Ye have tae jist fouter wi’ it til it...” Jamie mumbled as John tried to help him.

Jamie's jacket was a Montrose style double breasted doublet of dark green velvet with five pairs of silver celtic buttons decorating the front from shoulder to waist at an angle that accentuated Jamie’s strong shoulders and athletic torso. Below the kilt hem there were finely knitted tartan hose that matched the pattern of the dress kilt, contrasting silk garter flashes and an impressively sized silver and black sgian dhu that matched the patent leather silver buckled brogues. A plaid of the same tartan as the kilt attached at Jamie’s left shoulder with a large round silver brooch and the outfit was completed by a lace jabot and lace cuffs that framed the exquisitely tailored jacket perfectly.

“I confess I had no idea it would be this complicated.”

“Don’t!” Jamie said in response to John’s look. “Its like dressage for humans. Right, let see. Kilt, kilt pin, belt, sporran, hose, flashes, sgian dhu, shirt, studs, cufflinks...” And on Jamie rattled through his list of accoutrements. As John flipped a white silk dress scarf over his head.

“Ye don’t think the lace cuffs are too much?”

“I think its white tie and you’ll be the only one wearing a kilt so if your aim was to blend in you’re already too late,” John leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m going to watch out for the car. Hal sent a text to say it should be on its way.”

Jamie, who was now concentrating on pinning his plaid in place without drawing blood merely nodded in acknowledgement and continued about his business while John took one last trip to the loo and went down to the street door to wait for the car.

Sure enough within a couple of minutes the quiet purr of a black Mercedes rolled around the corner and the driver – dressed in a well cut but bland lounge suit – got out and opened the back door.

“Thank you. One moment,” John told the man. He wondered if he should go back up for Jamie. With a Yale lock on the door, all Jamie would need to do to lock up would be to pull it snugly closed. But there was no need. John heard the distinctive tap, tap, tap of the metal quarter tips in Jamie’s heels and a few moments later Jamie appeared down the stairs.

 _Resplendent_ , John thought.

Jamie’s lengthening hair was brushed back. The tailoring of the outfit showed off Jamie’s body in a whole new way. The lace, silver and velvet stood out like a butterfly on a spring day and every single thing about it was excitingly different from the standard white tie dress John knew everyone else would be forced to wear. The bright red of the modern Fraser tartan, the silver adorning every accessory to the outfit and the lace of the jabot and cuffs added a touch of spectacle to the whole occasion. From the top to toe Jamie Fraser looked to John Grey like a bird of paradise.

It was a damn sight more interesting than another black tailcoat to John’s eyes, all too accustomed as he was to the riveting choice in acceptable shirt stud colours. More than that however, was the change in the way Jamie carried himself. The way his chest stuck out, his head held high. Jamie seemed to be an extra two inches taller and a damn sight more mouth-watering to look at. John could just imagine him with a basket-handled broadsword at the hip and a dirk on his belt. The aftershave he was wearing gave a hint of masculine ruggedness that put images in John’s head of Jamie’s bekilted form storming up mountains with those strong rider’s legs.

“Is that a good silence or a bad silence?” Jamie asked carefully.

It was at such a moment, when John knew he was at his weakest that another man might press the advantage. But Jamie simply watched, and waited for John to gather himself.

Eventually John managed to clear his throat and nod with a modicum of decorum. “Good silence.”

“Just checking,” Jamie smirked.

John gave Jamie a long look and shook his head. “Bastard,” John muttered under his breath. Jamie knew _exactly_ what his kilt outfit was doing to John and had not an ounce of shame about it.

John’s words, however, made Jamie laugh with an open-hearted joy that made John’s entire spirit lift out of sheer elation. Jamie slid his hand into John’s and they walked together towards the car.

“Couples don’t generally hold hands at this sort of thing. Is that alright with you? Protocol tends to be rather formal.”

“Whatever you think is best, John. Are we going with boyfriend or partner?”

John stopped and looked at Jamie. It was a question he had been waiting to discuss and it said rather a lot about the higgledy piggledy nature of their relationship that the matter of marriage and children came up first before what they wanted to call each other. “Partner, I think but if you’d rather...”

“No,” Jamie jumped in quickly and nodded sharply. “Partner’s fine.”

The event was taking place at one of London’s better hotels and it seemed the staff were all set up and schooled on the correct protocol for all of the different individuals arriving. They had a smooth set up of cars entering the short drive and disgorging their passengers in front of a small bank of photographers held back by barriers before the chauffeurs or hotel staff took care of the vehicles and the next car pulled into its place. John stepped out first, with Jamie half a step behind him in deference to the fact that John was the reason they were here in the first place.

Outside the air was cold, damp and low lying. More than ever Jamie was reminded that London was all but built on a marsh and you could tell it by the air in the winter. The way it sat still and unmoving, in misty little drifts over the low-lying parts of the city where the streets and lanes intertwined with rivers and canals and waterways. There was the expected flurry of flashing as they walked in together, Jamie tucking himself in behind John’s shoulder.

Inside, however, the air was warm and bright. The high-end furnishing were rather more gaudy than tasteful but Jamie found that was to be expected in these sorts of circles and he knew better than to say so out loud. John was in his element. The reception area of the hotel was full of arriving guests giving their coats and being ushered to the correct rooms for the party itself and while Jamie was absorbing the atmosphere John was already changing his body language to smoothly fit in. John handed over his overcoat and scarf and got a ticket in return. Jamie stayed as he was and lurked quietly at John’s side, occasionally muttering a quiet observation in John’s ear.

“Will there be many folk like us here, do ye reckon?”

John looked across at Jamie. He would be hot in all that wool in a while, but Jamie didn’t seem concerned about that so much as he seemed a little taken about at the sheer number of people. John was reminded how much Jamie struggled with the PR side of his job and the undue attention this evening would bring and his heart melted a little at the effort Jamie was making on his behalf. Oh, Jamie was perfectly capable of seamlessly fitting into any situation he put his mind to but John knew it exhausted him terribly. And he wasn't really one to suffer fools gladly.

“You mean same-sex couples? A few, I expect.”

Behind them more people were arriving. John acknowledged some in passing, nodded hello’s and shaking hands before accepting direction from a hotel staff member towards the main rooms.

Jamie knew well enough not to ask in too much detail about John’s work. He appreciated as much as anyone could that much of John’s work was of a sensitive nature that he couldn’t discuss at home or with friends. And if John sometimes discussed work with Hal that was mainly because Hal moved in the same circles himself – or rather, slightly higher circles in the same corners of Whitehall. Jamie saw all the subtle signs of class status all around him. The dress, the accents, the family jewels pillaged from around the empire in centuries gone by.

The hotel itself was not only high-end, but elite in the way only London could be. Subtle signs everywhere of hierarchy and power. The carpets, the lights, the pictures on the walls, every feature of the suite of rooms the event occupied and the manner and dress of the staff was impeccably turned out. There were a lot of heterosexual couples, men in tailored tail coats or military evening wear, women in evening dresses and heels with expensive make-up and perfumes and jewellery and in the background a string quartet dressed in white tie evening wear played Hayden.

Jamie took in a deep breath and braced himself.


	41. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Before the sit-down meal there was the mandatory and dreaded ‘socialising’. Hotel and catering staff wandered the room with trays of drinks and h’ors d’oeuvres as RP English accents filled the room. Jamie’s own rural Scottish accent had done him just fine so far, but here between his accent and his red hair and his kilt outfit he stood out somewhat from the crowd and was drawing eyes. Jamie was always proud to wear his kilt, but he did wonder for a moment if he wouldn’t have been better with a regular white tie penguin suit like John on this occasion. How many of the looks were due to the clothing and how many were down to the recognition of John and himself as a couple however, Jamie wasn’t sure.

  


There were a lot of names and a lot of faces. Jamie recognised some of them and exchanged a quiet acknowledgement here and there – a nod, a hello, an enquiry after the family. There were many horse owners amongst them or regulars at race meetings that Jamie attended for work. However for the most part Jamie did his duty and stood quietly at John’s side in a supportive manner, shaking hands and being introduced to people he would probably never remember again. It shouldn’t have surprised Jamie that John got as much attention as he did. One senior civil servant after another praised John’s aptitude for his work and their hopes for his future. If Jamie had been unknown questions would have abounded as to which schools he attended and where his family were from, but to Jamie’s great relief his professional reputation saved him from the awkward probing small talk. He could shake a hand and smile politely and listen to the courteous, ‘Pleasure to meet you, Fraser, I know you by reputation of course.’

  


Jamie was no great lover of socialising in these circles, but he could put in a reasonable showing and was by now well practiced at talking to everyone from grooms to Royalty. Still, Jamie found that he could get away with very little in the way of making actual conversation. While John was talking to yet another senior colleague, Jamie touched his elbow and quietly offered to get them both fresh drinks and before long found himself in the company of Hal, whom Jamie hadn’t even noticed had arrived.

“Jamie,” Hal cut in front of him and then surreptitiously looked around.

Jamie couldn’t help but feel a little wary. “Hal.” In better circumstances Jamie would have enquired about being introduced to Hal’s wife who was no doubt around somewhere but the tension Hal was giving off didn’t quite suit personal small talk.

Hal looked sharply at Jamie for addressing him so informally. But having addressed Jamie first Hal had put himself in a weak place to pull rank. “You’re doing rather well, all things considered.”

“You sound surprised. I’m here to support John, Hal. Nothing more.” Jamie stated simply. He had no interest in getting in the middle of a family argument and Hal clearly still harboured a few reservations about their relationship. Jamie watched Hal take great interest in his glass for a moment, before that plain and infinitely unreadable face looked back at him.

“So it would appear. Of course, its generating a lot of talk. You’ve always been so discreet about your private life and here you turn up in the middle of one of the most important diplomatic events of the year dressed up to the nines in that parochial...” Hal stopped himself but the disgusted downward glance at Jamie’s outfit was clear. “I’m sure I hardly need to tell you its already all over social media.”

Jamie couldn’t figure out how to respond to that, or whether any response was required at all. He was trying to behave himself on John’s account but Hal wasn’t making it very easy. “Its just a kilt, Hal.”

“It draws attention.”

An amused smirk tugged at the corner of Jamie mouth. Being as tall as he was, red-haired and just about the only Scottish accent in the place meant that Jamie’s chances of blending in were pretty much nil from the start.

“Well I will say,” Hal continued, “You do have in your favour the fact that there are certain senior civil servants who are discreetly pleased to see him settle down. John’s private life is, of course, his own business but nothing is entirely private in the halls of power and his liasons are...a worry.”

If Hal thought that Jamie was going to discuss their sex life in what was probably the most bugged hotel in London, with half the civil service and military establishment present then Hal had another thing coming. Heat stirred in his belly but Jamie looked at John and reminded himself it wouldn’t do to show anger. Still, he gritted his teeth and stared hard at Hal.

Hal sighed hard. “You’re acceptable, you’re British, you’re only a minor security risk so far as we can tell. You don’t have the background or schooling I might prefer of course and your youthful run-ins with the law are somewhat inconvenient not to mention your politics. I hardly need add that I’m not your biggest fan but you’ll do. If you do right by my brother I can probably bring myself to overlook your inadequacies. I’m just letting you know that there are a lot of eyes on you both tonight, on you as much as him. Maybe even more so. And all of it reflects on my family, and therefore me.”

  


To Jamie it was tedious and tiresome to constantly be reminded of what seemed to him terribly outdated notions of family and reputation. A part of him could recognise that Hal’s concern came out of love for his brother. But then there was a reason Jamie spent more time around animals than human beings.

“Well if that’s all, I should get this to John.” Jamie lifted John’s drink and lifted it in a motion that indicated he was going to finish his journey across the room. But Hal still wasn’t done.

“The thing is, Fraser, on your own you’re of little interest outside the horse racing world, no one cares who you date. And outside of certain circles in London the same is probably true of my brother. But while you are here, partnered to a man of my brother’s standing, a member of the Grey family who have always moved with discretion in the senior circles of the British Establishment _for centuries_ , you become something else. You become a tool. So if you must make yourself stand out like a sore thumb I trust you can keep your temper in check when people here push your buttons, as they inevitably will.”

The penny dropped. That’s what this was about. Hal was tolerating him, but clearly John’s brother didn’t yet trust Jamie.

“I’m not quite sure whether to be offended that you think I could allow myself to be provoked to physical anger in front of John’s colleagues, or that real people feeling real emotions is such a horror to the British establishment,” Jamie replied.

Hal put a firm hand on Jamie’s shoulder and gripped it a little too tightly. “Jamie, whether you like it or not you have a history. There are still plenty of stereotypes around about unruly wild Scots with the temper of savages. Rebellious Scots to crush, to quote a line. Perhaps a reminder of The Duke of Cumberland raping his way through the highlands, or an offhand comment belittling the couth barbarity of the Gaelic tongue which still – somehow – manages to squeeze valuable money out of public funds that could be going towards the patriotic manufacturing of Union Jacks. Emotion is a weakness, Fraser. My brother feels too much emotion by half and most of it seems to be directed at you. If you think for one moment that you can trust a single man or woman in this room you most gravely mistaken.”

The angry heat in Jamie’s soul abated slightly, cooled and settled. Although he had a funny way of going about it, Jamie understood that Hal’s words were said out of concern for his brother’s welfare. Hal and Jamie would probably never be best friends, but Jamie could respect the man’s love for his kin. Slowly, he forced himself to form an appropriate response, without giving Hal too much the upper hand. “I appreciate your concern for your brother, Lord Melton. I will take what you say under advisement.”

“That’s all I ask,” Hal met Jamie’s eyes for a long moment in a silent accord of mutual respect.

“Perhaps you might do me the honour of introducing me to your wife, later?” Jamie enquired. Over Jamie’s shoulder however, something was happening to catch Hal’s attention. A small kerfuffle at the door had both men turning around to witness the entrance of a woman on her own. She looked to be around his own age, exquisitely dressed in a black evening dress that showed off the curves of her hip to best advantage. The familiar mass of curling hair was expensively arranged. Her tasteful make-up was expertly applied to give a subtle, natural look that complimented her features and at the neckline a diamond necklace and matching earrings accentuated a bit more decoletage than was traditional for such a buttoned up event.

Jamie found himself smiling.

Claire.

Claire was here.


	42. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

For three or four seconds Claire Beauchamp appeared to command the whole room. She stood at the entrance taking in the whole scene with a sweeping, defiant gaze and Jamie felt his stomach flip.

“Poor Frank Randall’s widow.” Hal muttered. “The less said about that the better.”

Jamie’s eyes flashed from Claire to John who was staring back in wide-eyed astonishment.

For Claire, arriving on her own was something she was not used to. Nor was having the attention of everyone focused on her. Claire could do without the whole affair but before climbing out of her London cab she decided that the only way to survive the evening was to project a bullish self-confidence she perhaps didn’t feel and hopefully, with enough willpower, she would get to the other end in one piece.

She went through all the motions, greeted the right people, smiled and looked pretty. Everyone was unfailingly polite and sympathetic in a manner that somewhat grated with its artificiality. Claire accepted one condolence after another as she made her way steadily into the main room where everyone was gathering and braced herself to discover just how many of the dull, leery, self-entitled idiots her husband had worked with she would be subjected to over the course of the evening. With an initial sweeping gaze she took in at least a dozen of the worst offenders and then her eyes stopped.

Standing there in the middle of the room next to a commanding military figure who was vaguely familiar, James Mackenzie Fraser stood resplendent in the most magnificent kilt outfit she had ever laid eyes on. Standing with a glass of whisky in one hand and a cant to the hips, his copper-russet red hair was swept back to show off his high cheekbones and strong jaw. His kilt was of a bright red tartan with sporran, pin and silver belt buckle glistening along with the myriad silver buttons on his sharply tailored velvet doublet. Even the astonishing amount of lace somehow suited the ensemble and, somewhat unexpectedly, he rather managed to pull off. The tailoring of the doublet and placement of the buttons showed off his broad shoulders and trim torso. Even his legs were almost indecent. A hint of muscular thigh, a sinuous tendon sneaking down into plaid kilt socks that led down to silver buckled shoes. Her eyes lingered on the sliver of skin visible between the hem of the kilt and the top of his sock, the bright flashes on his shins and the dark and slightly threatening sight of the sigan dhu tucked in at one side completing the look.

Claire felt her breath escape her for a moment and an almost physical pull towards his presence. A bird of paradise amongst a room full of grey city pigeons.

What was he doing here?

The answer came in the form of the absurdly handsome and dashing man who came over to stand at Jamie’s side. Dressed in white tie evening wear that could only have come from the highest of high-end tailors, a familiar face hastened to Jamie’s side with every attempt at appearing casual and failing miserably.

Claire watched as Jamie stepped aside for John, turning his hips subconsciously as only lovers did.

John Grey. Of course.

Standing together, dressed up to the nines, Claire couldn’t help the way something deep inside her physically clenched and her mouth went a little dry. At this moment on any other evening out amongst Frank’s set she would have had to stop herself, for fear of Frank’s snide comments as he noticed what she was looking at but Frank wasn’t here and Claire kept looking on in appreciation. After all, the half of the room who weren’t staring at her were most definitely staring at them and for good reason. The pair of them together – youthful, handsome, physically fit and with evening wear that was cut to perfection – commanded the attention of the room. How was it two men could manage to both be quite so handsome? And contented looking? They were both of them smiling and exchanging soft words she couldn’t hear in a way that made her want to step closer and join in.

Claire moved into the room a little and took her bearings, but her eyes came back again to the men that she knew. The pleasurable muscle memory of her night with John, the warm safe feeling of dinner with Jamie. She couldn’t help but let one eye linger on them. They were standing with a military man who Claire most definitely knew. That was Harold Gray, Duke of Pardloe. One of Frank’s superiors. And only for the first time as they stood together did Claire notice the starting resemblance between that man and John Gray.

Claire felt herself physically stop.

_Oh God, they were related._

The sinking, awful feeling that hit her stomach made her want to disappear but Claire reminded herself that she was strong and could get through this. Harold Gray was looking slightly disapproving but he was interrupted at his elbow by a woman who by her conduct had to be Harold Gray’s wife. It cheered Claire up slightly when she saw the woman say something that, even though it was inaudible to Claire amongst the loud hubub, displayed that the woman clearly had her husband exactly where she wanted him.

 

Claire suppressed a smile at the woman’s antics and forced herself to look away and circulate the room. She managed a few greetings and found a glass of wine before her eyes came back to Jamie who was being introduced to Hal's wife. After a brief exchange of words the lady appeared to draw her brother-in-law John Grey into conversation and Jamie turned at the feeling of eyes on him to meet Claire's eye with a smirk. He sent a curt nod her way in acknowledgement, and raised his glass.

“You know her,” Hal stated to Jamie. It wasn’t a question.

Jamie paused for a moment, watching John converse with Minnie, considering what to say. “Through work,” He settled on.

Hal’s eyes were curious and questioning but Jamie said no more and the brief interlude was gone as John and Minnie rejoined the conversation. Soon Hal and Minnie were drawn away to talk to someone important. Yet still, Jamie felt Hal’s cold eyes on him across the room. Watchful and wary.

 

With one eye Jamie tracked Claire’s movements as the socialising continued and John introduced him to a minor member of the Royal family who was eager, it turned out, to talk about horsemanship and whether Jamie had ever attended the Windsor horse show. And as people began drifting towards the next room to be seated, Minnie caught Jamie’s eye across the room with a warm, reassuring look. Their meeting and introduction had been all too brief but Jamie found himself intrigued to learn more.

“So,” John told him, “Minnie seems to rather like you.”

“Aye, ye might say that,” Jamie agreed.

“Hal was rather worried you two might get along.”

“Ah. Well I suppose that explains why her didn't introduce her before,” Jamie confided with a smirk. He couldn’t help but find the whole thing rather amusing, to be honest.

“For all that my brother acts like the authoritarian, his wife can run rings round the both of us. God knows what will happen if she ever meets Claire. Hal might have an aneurism.”

Jamie was tempted to raise the matter of how on earth Hal knew about his conviction for assault while they were having this conversation, but had a glance around and considered that on second thoughts it might be better to wait until they were somewhere less public.

“Spit it out,” John told him.

“Its nothing. Hal mentioned some things about my past that I didn’t realise he knew.”

“You were vetted.” John cleared his throat. “Its fairly standard, for this sort of thing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I should have.”

Jamie kept his eyes locked on John for a long moment. It was clear to John that Jamie was less than happy and had plenty of questions, but the discontent rumbling in his eyes was quenched with John’s apology and Jamie pushed it down to deal with later. “Aye, John. Ye should have.”

John had a feeling that wasn’t the end of the subject, but by a silent agreement they both seemed to recognise that now was neither the time nor the place to have a discussion about it. John looked to Jamie, assessing whether his partner was really letting it go or whether he was more likely to resentfully stew all night. Jamie reached out and nudged the backs of their hands together. It was enough. A touch, a moment of connection. Not so mad, then. John nodded, accepting the truce and just in time.

Claire was circulating the room and getting quite a bit of attention as she came back into view.

“Looks rather stunning, doesn’t she?”

“Did you know she’d be here?” Jamie demanded.

“No. I didn’t know about Claire.” John insisted, pleading eyes willing Jamie to believe him.

Jamie locked eyes with John for a long moment and then closed the matter with a curt nod.

“Must be something to do with her husband, I imagine. I feel rather sorry for her, I wouldn’t want to be a woman coming alone amongst this lot of dinosaurs. Groping hands all over the place.”

Jamie shuddered at that. He’d already been on the sharp end of one or two leery looks from older men that he could do without but the subject was dropped as the woman in question approached. Jamie couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Claire met his eye, returning his appreciative gaze like for like. It made Jamie smile at her boldness and he extended an arm of welcome for her to join them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a small note, I know that Minnie has her fans and I for one am always trying to give female characters more 'air time' so I would have liked for there to be more Minnie is this but writing crowd scenes with multiple characters is tricky and I felt that the John-Jamie-Claire dynamic deserved the most attention. So I hope you can forgive me that she is mostly referred to in passing.


	43. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this story. I know it probably seems really slow right now. In an ideal world I think it would be read in big chunks but I have to be realistic about the time I can commit to it and the pace I can work at when juggling a busy life.
> 
> We're now over the 65k word mark so there's lots of the story published, and I would always recommend going back to the beginning to see what feels different when you get to read through at your own pace.

**Chapter 42**

“Not interrupting something, I hope?” Claire started.

It wasn’t that she was avoiding them, exactly. It was only, Claire found, that it took her most of a circuit of the room to decide what to say to the men. Claire was already feeling adequately out of place. The looks, the whispers had not gone unnoticed. Claire was no fool, she knew her husband’s work and indiscretions but she would hold her head up high.

Matters with Jamie and John brought things into a different light. For all the awkwardness of unresolved matters or feelings between them, Claire found herself rather relieved at the prospect of their company. Handsome, and charming, they smiled and made interesting conversation and made each other laugh in a way that Claire found all the more alluring for the fact that they both looked good enough to eat tonight. They were both good company, considerate and thoughtful and better than average conversationalists.

Events such as this might not once have inspired much confidence in Claire, but Claire was trying on being a new post-Frank sort of person and she found she rather liked it.

“Mrs Randall,” Jamie greeted. “Please, accept our deepest sympathies on the passing of your late husband.”

“Thank you, Mister Fraser,” She replied back, hiding a smirk behind her wine glass. There it was again, that draw she felt to Jamie’s physical presence that she felt whenever she was around the man. John was sexy and handsome and fun but Jamie, there was something deeper about Jamie. A quiet strength. A resonance she felt in her soul. They stood there, silently staring at one another for a long moment, lost in each other.

John looked from one to the other, rather amused by the pretence at formality for the benefit of the rest of the room while they gave each other sex eyes. And yet they smiled, like it was some sort of in joke. John supposed it was rather funny. Well he hadn’t suffered through years of boarding school for nothing. He could do formal with the best of them. Claire looked as appetising as John had ever seen her in a figure-hugging black number that showed off her assets to excellent advantage. God help him, he thought, looking at Claire and Jamie he’d be tearing his eyes away from the both of them all night. He would quite happily stand here bathing in their presence.

For his part, Jamie could hardly take his eyes off the woman. Looking into her eyes he felt his rapidly beating heart settle a little and the exchange of a small, secret smile let him know that everything was alright. With the two of them there, Claire and John, something imperceptible silently clicked into place in his mind.

Beside him, John quietly cleared his throat, snapping Claire and Jamie out of their private world.

“Claire,”

“John.”

Silence.

Claire took in a deep breath. “I can’t quite say I’ve entirely forgiven you,” Claire addressed him, “But for tonight, at least, let us put on a collected front. What do you say?”

“Well I’m quite alright with that,” John met her eye, his own twinkling mischievously and smirked. Across the room John knew Hal was watching them. A quick glance sideways and John saw Minnie talking Hal down as his brother watched the three of them smirk and smile and stand too close together. John could only imagine what his brother was thinking and in a childish sort of way he couldn’t help but wind his brother up a bit.

A bell rang for dinner and John took his chance, offering Claire an arm. Jamie took his cue from John and offered Claire his arm at her other side. A mutter rippled through the room at the image of the young women and her two handsome chaperones in amongst the ageing department heads, the senior military officers, the politicians and aristocrats.

  


Claire slid an arm into each of theirs and glanced over at her late husband’s former boss and forced down the bubbling laughter at the look of apoplexy on his face. Standing ensconced between John Grey and Jamie Fraser, for the moment at least Claire couldn’t think of anywhere else she would rather be.

To their delight and surprise, they were able to be seated together. John cleared his throat and took his seat. He and Jamie were opposite each other, which meant that Jamie was seated next to Claire. Their being a same-sex couple seemed to have slightly thrown out the alternating-gender seating arrangement. And Claire being by herself was as close as the organisers were able to get to setting it to rights again. Jamie helped Claire with her chair. The people around them looked at each other and shared looks of astonishment and suppressed curiosity. John smiled and nodded and bid them hello in such a polished accent they settled somewhat and quickly took his seat so that the table might hide his body’s gut reaction to having Claire and Jamie in the same place at the same time.

Claire accepted help from Jamie with her chair and brushed a hand over his in a silent gesture of thanks. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Touching skin on skin was all but forbidden at such an absurd level of formality but Claire was here to make waves and she found she didn’t care. She looked over John, his perfect shampoo-advert hair, his dashing clothes and bright eyes twinkling merrily. He looked handsome and dapper and eminently fuckable and now she was having thoughts that were entirely inappropriate for a formal dinner. The three of them together like on that video she’d watched last night…

Claire felt her stomach flip. Giving herself a moment she pressed her lips together and took in a deep breath. Firstly, their presence here was quite unexpected and secondly they had absolutely no business looking so attractive. Well dressed, charming, handsome, intelligent and a warm and welcoming touch to their manner that was very hard to resist. She felt a naughty stirring in her and almost laughed. Oh the irony of being here, like this, with them on Frank’s account. What was she to do but enjoy it then, and let it be whatever it was. “I have to admit I hadn’t anticipating having such charming company tonight,” She told them. “My late husband Frank is being acknowledged and I had thought the whole event would be rather trying.”

“Frank Randall, I assume?” John treated her with a kindness of manner that Claire begrudgingly admitted appeared to be entirely genuine since she had to admit he was still very much not her favourite person.

Claire nodded.

“Was he civil service?”

“In a manner of speaking. Of course, I was never allowed to know the particulars,” Claire smiled politely back. A practiced smile of wives who knew both too little and too much all at the same time and never quite forgave their husbands for it. On the one hand the pretence at formality felt a little absurd, to Claire. On the other hand she felt a bubbling pleasure in her chest that the joke was on the rest of the room. That there was this secret between her and these men hiding in plain sight. That the rest of the room knew nothing save that they looked good enough to cause comments to ripple through the crowd wherever they went. And apparently they were hers, for tonight. She watched them share a look and it was clear to her that neither of them had the slightest intention of directing their attention to anyone else outside their group. The rest of the room could look on and weep. Claire wouldn’t give up their company for dinner for the world. Throwing her own reservations to the wind, her own lingering doubts and simmering undercurrents of hurt that echoed from the past, Claire decided firmly that she was going to enjoy this.

  


For the briefest of moments John Grey found himself caught unawares as, for the first time since that oh so memorable date, Claire Randall directed a meaningful look his way that made his stomach butterfly. John’s heart sank slightly knowing that if Claire decided to sink her claws in to himself and Jamie that he for one would be powerless to resist. Dear God, Hal was going to kill him if he ever found out.

Under the table, Jamie’s leg touched his and John knew if their hands could reach that Jamie would be clasping his under the table in a silent show of support. Jamie knew. John’s heart was his weak spot and it was something Jamie felt incredibly protective over. Jamie knew very well that John would do almost anything he asked, and so asked very little. Out of care for John. It was one of the reasons Hal worried so much, but Hal didn’t know Jamie like he did. Had Jamie’s personality been different John knew he would have been open to exploitation. It gave him no pride to acknowledge it. But Jamie lent his strength and protection when John needed it and John would forever be immeasurably grateful.

John took strength from Jamie’s touch and found himself meeting his partner’s eyes. Jamie was checking in on him and John sent him a look of reassurance back across the table. Once Jamie knew he was ok, the dynamic changed, Jamie raising an eyebrow in an expression that could only be called teasing and John felt a slightly blush rise to his cheeks.

Claire watched them, watched their silent communication. The way they were in synch with each other, seeming to know each others minds without saying. And clearly, deeply in love. How to make inroads in discussing anything, when you were outside that? She cleared her throat and thought of the only thing that she really knew connected the three of them. “Enough talk of sad things,” Claire decided, “Tell me about Lady of Lallybroch.”

  



	44. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter this time. I only hope that what I had in mind translates onto paper.

**Chapter 43**

The three of them settled into conversation about horses and it was some sort of improvement, lubricated by the finest alcohol money could buy and an unspoken sense of solidarity when it came to dealing with the room at large. And yet, beyond the warm eyes and trying and make each other laugh, there was still decorum to at least try and follow.

And then there was, for Jamie, the new encounter of watching John watch Claire. Watching him be open about his interest. If there was one thing John was poor at it was hiding how he felt. Jamie had always been overtly conscious that John had never hidden how he felt about him, even if for so long John had known it was hopeless. Oh, he was courtesy itself. Manners and politeness. But his eyes, his body language displayed his interest. His kindnesses, too. Kindnesses Jamie himself hadn’t always been sure what to do with. After all, Jamie would barely have a business as a trainer at all if it wasn’t for John.

It should have been odd. It should have stirred jealousy. Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen? Back when the three of them had met together at Newmarket, John’s interest had been plain but there were so many complications to deal with, to untangle, that there wasn’t much room for relaxing and getting to know each other. And when he was in London John was discretion itself.

As they had all learned.

But here, now, tonight, was the first time in his life Jamie had witnessed John give someone else the looks he himself had spent years on the receiving end of. And no, he found he wasn’t jealous at all. He found his heart warmed for John. That maybe John could see Claire the same way he himself did. With her bonnie brown hair and her whisky eyes and her freckles and the way she was so intelligent and so headstrong and so stubborn.

“Yer staring,” Jamie told John quietly.

“Well you must admit Mrs Randall looks most exquisite, tonight.” John gave Jamie a meaningful look that promised a fuller discussion of this point later.

Under the table, Jamie felt a delicate hand brush against his own and looked to his side to find Claire looking up at him a grateful but placating way. She hated these events at the best of times, all the ridiculous fawning over important people, the uncomfortable clothes, the forced smiles and backstabbing. Jamie and John, at least, were none of those things. She felt a comfort with them that for all that their presence was unexpected, the feelings they aroused were not unwelcome and now there was the enticing prospect of having their company all the way through dinner. Of sharing looks across the dinner table and quiet touches underneath it. There was a lack of artificiality with them. A level of comfort that meant Claire felt no need to put on some false mask. Instead there was a feeling of security, of protection, of warmth in their presence. And as for staring, Claire was quite conscious that her dinner company was the most easy on the eyes of any in the room. Two could play at that game, she thought. _Or three._

Looking up from her drink Claire’s gaze caught John’s and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“That’s quite the compliment coming from the person wearing the most resplendent outfit in the room.” She turned to meet Jamie’s eyes. “I’m rather flattered he managed to tear his eyes away for a moment.”

There was a flash in Jamie’s eyes and Claire realised her comment that had intended to be teasing had genuinely riled him for a moment. If they were anywhere else Claire thought that Jamie may have reached out and touched her, which seemed to be his way of asking – threatening? - if she was serious. No, not threatening. But there was a passion to the man, something he clearly held back on.

John glanced at Jamie for a moment with concern and then cleared his throat. He watched Jamie take in a deep breath, press his lips together and reach for his glass.

“Jamie can be a touch over protective,” John explained.

Claire feigned that this was news. “Oh, indeed?” She paused for dramatic affect. “Towards both of us at the same time?”

Caught between his instincts to protect one from the other, it all got rather tangled if he wanted to protect Claire from John, and vice versa, all at the same time. Well, at least they were laughing. Even if they were laughing at him.

“Aye, aye,” He sighed, giving in to being the butt of the joke and letting them have their way and quietly admitting that navigating all this might be trickier than he’d thought.

 

Jamie glanced at John somewhat eased by the mirth in his eyes and then back at Claire, allowing himself to take a long, delicious drink of Claire’s evening wear himself. The dress was cut to show off a little bit more of her breasts than was probably modest for a widow. But it showed off her figure, the shape of her back, the curve of her arse. Her hair was tied up in a manner that was both modest and yet made you want to pull it to pieces and let it tumble down all over her long neck and shoulders. Her whisky coloured eyes reminded Jamie of the amber jewels that were so beloved by old Scottish families, who held onto them for good luck and protection. No matter that most of them would claim to be Christians now, the old pagan habits had never quite died completely in most parts of the country. Jamie raised his glass, clasping the stem for fear his hands might stray if he didn’t and allowed his mind to wander. To entertain fantasies he had no business entertaining. To live in that moment, with the three of them sitting together looking fine and eating delectable food and sharing good company, offering up jokes and stories to entertain each other and make each other laugh.

 

 

The conversation throughout dinner was lively and fun. They found they had a common sense of humour, values and intellectual interests. It was a meeting of the minds that felt more joyous and profoud than anything Claire had experienced in her marriage to Frank. Frank who viewed her as just smart enough to be his intellectual inferior. By contrast Jamie and John conversed with a liberating, free-wheeling delight. They sparred and joked and yet made space for Claire’s opinion. They loved to laugh, to make a point that resonated with the other and yet did so with a mutual respect and sense of love that was enticingly attractive to behold.

Afterwards, after all the awkwardness and the speeches and the food and the awards and acknowledgements, Claire found herself reassessing them in light of two hours of forced companionship. If she could only put her own personal feelings aside for a moment, her feelings of betrayal and anger that John’s conduct had stirred up after so many years and confusion at Jamie’s manner in the hotel compounded with the legacy of being lied to by Frank, if she could only understand or get past all of that she could admit that there was something exciting about the prospect of knowing them better. More...intimately. Her own feelings aside, she felt oddly comforted and protected in their company in a way that was more liberating than it had any right to be. The truth was that Jamie’s gentle nature belied his size and stature. The kindness in John’s eyes and the quiet concern in Jamie’s would stay with her. The way they looked out for her all night by some silent agreement between them.

And most of all, the way her body responded when the two of them were near.

Oh Claire could get used to that.

 

Claire allowed Jamie and John to offer her a lift home and reluctantly acknowledged an element of begrudging enjoyment to the whole affair. The thought of enduring such an evening with Frank’s set on her own had been extremely trying. The stress had built up over the course of the day and now that it was all over she was actually rather exhausted.

Claire wondered how she would have gotten through the evening without them. They shared an understated, dry humour and even her loathing of John’s presence had withered in the experience of his company. Nevermind that it had all been a pleasant distraction from the trying nature of the point of her being there in the first place.

Jamie walked her to their chauffered car while John dashed away to say goodbye to his brother and came back to get into the car looking rather ruffled but shook his head and wouldn’t talk about it.

The car ride was quiet. Claire’s adrenaline was crashing and she was well on her way to dreaming of sleep as soon as she got in the door. They stopped at her place a short while later and John pecked her on the cheek and prodded Jamie to walk her to the door.

On the doorstep to Claire’s stair, Jamie stopped with the distinctive tapping of his quarter heels coming to a pause and turned to face Claire.

“I had a better evening than I was expecting,” She told him, “Thank you.”

Jamie was quiet for a moment, wondering if he should raise the personal matter between them that had been bothering him off and on. “I’m pleased to hear it. I’m only sorry I didn’t contact you sooner after our date. It was badly done. I should have called you the morning after.”

“Apology accepted. I think we’re all learning how this works as we go. Although from what I heard tonight, I gather John is quite the man about town.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“And you’re not,” Claire guessed, looking up at him. “How does that work?”

Jamie looked over at John, still sitting in the back of the car but clearly watching matters between them. He turned back to Claire and found her staring up at him. A weight landing on his wrist and he found her hand there, her chin turned upwards hopefully. Jamie took a step closer and leaned in and then stopped and got a tiny, assertive nod from Claire in response. Taking it as permission Jamie leaned down and their lips touched. Claire’s hand coming up to his shoulder, her tongue touching his lips to explore and Jamie opened his mouth to let her deepen the kiss. Letting her lead and then the kiss drifted to a natural pause and Jamie pulled slightly back even though they were close enough for Jamie to feel the heat of their bodies together and he wondered what she looked like when she was naked, what her eyes looked like when she came. It was a thought that sent a blush to his face. And a frisson of hope. “Why don’t you stick around and find out?” Jamie said.

It wasn’t a question, Claire realised, that required any particular answer. They stood there on the step, staring at each other until the rapid pat-pat-pat of dress shoes on the path interrupted them and Claire looked around to find John coming up the path to meet them. “Terribly sorry to interrupt. I only came to say to Jamie if you’re going inside can I get the door key? I think you have it in your sporran.”

Jamie cleared his throat awkwardly but he was saved by Claire announcing that Jamie was most definitely not coming inside. “I’m not?” Jamie asked her.

“No, you’re going home with John and I’m going to put on my most comfortable pyjamas and drink Frank’s best bottle of whisky and then I’m going to sleep.” Claire reached up on tiptoes then and kissed each of them on the cheek. “Thank you for making the evening bearable. I’ll be in touch.”

And just like that, the door opened and closed and Jamie and John found themselves standing out in the cold, staring at a closed door. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then both fell apart laughing in disbelief, warm chuckles shaking their chests as their hands slid together and they made their way down the garden path back to the car.

Upstairs, the curtains twitched as Claire looked down on them with a slight twist of wistfulness in her chest. Their laughter, their company. Their easy humour. There was a warmth and safety to them and even knowing up front about John’s wayward tendencies didn’t throw up the objections that Claire’s heart would have expected. She wanted more, she wanted to be with them. To see them. To spend time with them. She wanted to drink whisky and fuck and curl up in their living room reading books as John cooked the dinner and Jamie quietly rubbed boot polish into his riding boots. Leather and woodsmoke, books and blankets, whisky and chess. Their bed would be warm and comfortable and she would be curled up between their two bodies, warm and sated and Claire couldn’t believe she was thinking about it. But there it was.

 


	45. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy a double update today as there was no update last week. The next couple of chapters are quite Jamie-John centric. Life in London turns out to be a little different from life in Newmarket as Jamie and John continue to try and navigate life as a new couple.

**Chapter 44**

Jamie and John took the car the rest of the way home and let themselves inside where Jamie finally was able to get John where he wanted him. The front door closed and Jamie grasped John’s cream dress scarf and pulled him in for a thorough snog.

John melted into the kiss, kissing back with passion as his hands clasped Jamie’s face. They parted after a while, both a little more dishevelled and John finally peeled off his overcoat and dress scarf. “I’ve been dying to kiss ye all night,” Jamie told him earnestly. “I do love ye John."

John’s face had never looked more elated and he clasped Jamie’s hand tightly. “I love you too, Jamie. Cuppa?”

“God, yes.”

John put the kettle on as Jamie cast off his doublet and took off his brogues and kilt hose and then sat on the sofa, watching John. Oh how smart John looked, how warm his eyes were. He’d never been with someone as thoughtful, who went out of his way at every turn to think of Jamie before himself. It was an old fashioned notion, but tonight impressed upon Jamie just how honourable John was as a man.

Jamie knew that John had always been straight forward and honest with him, and patient too. More than ever Jamie realised now that that was an exception for the world John came from and moved in. Was it too much of a stretch to think that Claire and John might have that in common? Claire with her stubborn, fierce attitude. The pretty way her hair was tied up but wee curls kept trying to spring out of their rightful place. The intelligent, teasing glint in her eye that so matched John’s. The awkwardness between the three of them that had led in the end to good humour and a shared sense of solidarity at surviving such a formal event.

  


“What are you thinking about so hard?” John enquired as he brought over a tray with a french press for Jamie and a small pot of Earl Grey tea for himself. He saw glint in John’s eye and knew exactly what it meant considering his boyfriend’s arousal had been coming and going all evening. Jamie reached out a hand and John came and sit himself down beside Jamie on the sofa. Their bodies leaned into each other and John’s hand slid up the inside of Jamie’s thigh.

“Alright I was thinking about Claire’s arse in that dress,” Jamie grinned.

“And you call _me_ out for staring?” John teased him.

Jamie tucked his chin into his chest as a smile blossomed on his face, but John caught it all the same and cast Jamie a knowing glance.

“Well she was staring right back. As if you don’t know every eye on the room was on you,” John muttered good naturedly.

Jamie waited for John to get himself settled and then lay back against John’s shoulder while the coffee brewed, enjoying the weight of John’s lazy arm teasing the skin at the hem of his kilt.

“Thank you for coming,” John said quietly.

“Yer brother’s worried about ye.”

“Is that what you were talking about?”

“That and politics, I suppose. Thank God I managed to ward him of the subject of Claire Beauchamp.”

“You’re right, Hal would not take it well. Especially in light of her late husband’s work. But she’s good for you, I think,” John said, kissing Jamie’s hair affectionately.

Jamie’s hand came to clasp John’s hand, toying with the fingers. “What makes you say that?”

“She brings out a new side of you. Brings you out of yourself.” With his other hand, John sipped his tea quietly. It was dark and quiet save for the noises of the city around them. A siren far off, the yellow tint of an old sulpher streetlights that had yet to be updated. A cat mewling at something in a garden down the road. A dog barking. A motorbike taking off.

Jamie sighed and settled a little further into the sofa and John’s body. “You’re warm, and safe and steady. Claire is...like liquid fire. There’s something there under the surface, I can sense it, that hasnae been let out yet. I can see it in the way she looks at us, in the way she talks. There’s a fierceness...”

“Well,” John shifted, bringing himself a little closer to Jamie, “You have to admit we both have a soft spot for strong women.”

“Aye,” Jamie chuckled, “There is that. But yer both smart, ye read and ye both have a sense of honour, of treating people right. I like that.”

  


They finished their tea and went to bed, taking no pains to put their clothes away properly but taking the time-honoured option of dumping everything in ‘the chair’ to sort out in the morning. John would not be at work that day, he had booked a day of annual leave to spend with Jamie and then there would be the theatre in the evening before Jamie returned to Newmarket on Tuesday and John went back to work. They curled up in bed together, naked under the covers and taking comfort in the familiar presence and warmth of each other.

  


Jamie was typically the earlier riser of the pair of them simply out of habit through his job. Without the usual morning workout to oversee, Jamie instead took himself off for a morning run and he was back and brewing coffee before John shuffled sleepily into the kitchen and collapsed against Jamie’s back, his arms around Jamie’s waist and his chin on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You’ve been running.”

“I have,” Jamie turned around and kissed John good morning.

John kissed Jamie back and hummed happily as he clung to Jamie like a limpet. “Come back to bed.”

“Breakfast?”

“I could eat.”

Jamie made up a tray of coffee, orange juice and porridge. The microwave sachets he favoured for the mornings stored well without going off and they seemed to have become as staple in John’s cupboard as much as his own. Jamie liked his porridge runny, John liked his a little thicker. Jamie mixed them both up to suit and served breakfast in the kitchen where John had a couple of bar stools and a counter in place of a kitchen table.

The coffee came out of John’s fancy bar top machine and was short, strong and bitter.

After breakfast they lay in bed together later, Jamie a little sweaty from his run but John didn’t seem to mind and they spent a quiet hour laying quietly against each the headboard, Jamie reading and John dozing and enjoying not getting up as the world around them rushed off to work on Monday morning.

Eventually Jamie declared that he needed a shower and patted John’s chest affectionately before leaving the bed. Jamie showered first, and then dressed as John took the second shower. When John emerged and politely made his way to the wardrobe. Jamie stood leaning against the doorframe and encountered the odd realisation that John hadn’t once asked for sex, either last night or this morning.

“John are you feeling alright?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You haven’t so much as asked for a handjob since we got home last night.”

“I can keep my hands to myself, you know.”

“I spent the whole evening in a kilt,” Jamie pointed out, knowing full well what John’s reaction had been to that particular outfit. It wasn’t that Jamie minded, but it was...uncharacteristic and now that he’d raised the matter John wouldn’t meet his eye. “And now this morning-”

“I asked you to bed.”

“To sleep,” Jamie pointed out.

John let out a long sigh.

Jamie could tell he had stirred something up. There was a tension in the air that Jamie was unfamiliar with. So often things were so easy between them, but this suddenly felt like a difficult discussion, like something that needed to be untangled. They had never been anything other than honest with each other about what they both wanted and needed and Jamie appreciated John respecting his needs, but not at the price of suppressing or lying to him about his own.

“Can you wait in the living room,” John said at last. “I’ll be through in a minute.” John did turn around then, and smiled in reassurance. He held Jamie’s eye until Jamie nodded his head in acquiescence to John’s wishes and made his retreat.

First Hal, and now John. What was going on?


	46. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

It was some time later when they were both washed and dressed and the full light of morning flooded into the flat when John hovered nervously by the living room window, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Since you bring it up, there was something I wanted to ask you and I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be.”

“Aye, well, you acting like ye are isnae putting me at ease, John. Would ye at least look at me?”

John looked at Jamie for a long moment and then sighed. He turned around, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “Every six months or so I go to the GUM clinic and get a full schedule of STD tests. I was hoping you might agree to go together.” John paused, “I’ve been nervous about asking you because I didn’t know what your reaction was going to be.”

A full weather system of emotions played over Jamie’s face in quick succession. Confusion, anger, outrage, bewilderment and finally an expression that told John he was mostly worried for him put John’s heart at ease.

“Yer not sick,” Jamie said warily, his brows drawing together. “Are ye?”

John crossed the space between them, slid his hand into Jamie’s and sat them both down on the sofa. He could see the confusion in Jamie’s eyes. The concern. “No, its just a check-up,” John reassured him. “Like going to the dentist.”

A huge weight he hadn’t realised he was holding lifted off Jamie’s heart. Of course if John was sick Jamie would have stood by him. But it was a relief all the same. And then Jamie began to process what John was asking.

“Ye want to go together?”

“As odd as it may sound, yes. Its a thing that gay couples do sometimes.”

Jamie was no fan of doctors, he would the be first to admit that. And what John was suggesting made him nervous. John had never mentioned or brought up where exactly he went to see his doctor, except to reassure Jamie that it happened. Now Jamie realised that John was asking him to step up and do the same. And as little as he liked the thought a sense of resignation overcame him as he realised he probably didn’t have much choice about it if he wanted the relationship to continue. After all, what sort of arsehole said no to those tests? Jaime turned around and scrubbed a hand through his hair. And besides, there was Claire to think about now as well.

“Jamie?”

“Aye.”

John watched the back of Jamie’s head, waiting. Giving him time to think. At length a curt nod gave him the assent he was looking for.

 

The genito-urinary medicine clinic John used was discreet and professional. Jamie supposed he shouldn’t have expected anything less. In truth he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting and the horses had enough medical tests that Jamie had no reason to feel intimidated by them. Yet somehow it all felt different when it was happening to yourself.

If it had been up to him, Jamie knew he would never have made the time to step inside the place. Never made it a priority either but it was clear that this was important to John and John’s presence at his side provided a comfort and a confidence that helped somewhat through the personal questions and the poking and prodding. In truth it was quicker and simpler than he had expected and some of the results came back immediately, all of them clear. Others would take a few days more and they would give Jamie and John phone calls to let them know the results. Reluctantly Jamie could see the wisdom in it and quietly he hoped that it would reassure Claire as well.

Part of him was unhappy John had sprung him on it, but as they left Jamie was reminded of just how long John had known him. John had spared him the worry by ripping off the band aid and he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. More than that, John had spent the time instead focusing on the sort of non-sexual physical affection Jamie liked so much. Yet again, Jamie realised, John’s actions had been all about putting him first.

Forgiveness was quick.

 

London was a wonderful city for sightseeing, if that was your thing, but Jamie and John were familiar with most of the sights. Instead Jamie insisted on taking John out for lunch, a decidedly upmarket french bistro in Covent Garden that was well attended by the rich and famous. Jamie didn’t mind about being seen, but John’s face when they got out of the taxi was what made the trip worth it.

“I told you I’d take you out,” Jamie muttered.

John stared at Jamie long and hard as Jamie paid the taxi driver.

“What?” Jamie straightened up to meet John’s eye. It was soft and warm and terribly full of affection. John played it cool for Jamie’s sake, but they both knew that when push came to shove John loved him more deeply and more fully than anything else on earth, that John’s devotion was so strong he would do anything that Jamie asked. Anything to be in his orbit.

Sometimes it made Jamie a little nervous.

“I really love you, Jamie Fraser.”

Jamie smiled warmly, in return. Even before they’d been together he could admit gravitating a little to John’s presence. To the games of chess that lasted long into the night just to not be alone. No, just to be with John. “I love you too, John. And I want you to know...I know I’m a bit backwards in coming forwards sometimes but I never want you to think that I’m ashamed to be wi’ ye. Cause I’m not.”

“If we weren’t in public right now I would kiss you,” John declared.

Jamie took half a step closer, enticingly. His eyes dancing. “What’s stopping you?” He invited.

“We’re in public,” John pointed out.

Jamie frowned and attempted to slide his hand into John’s but John moved his hand away and quietly cleared his throat.

“John?”

John closed his eyes for a moment as if willing himself strength and then opened them and glanced carefully at Jamie, a look leaden with meaning. When Jamie still looked confused John sighed heavily. “I’m not terribly comfortable with public displays of affection.”

“In formal situations, like last night,” Jamie pressed. The rest of Jamie’s meaning hung between them as a growing sense of disquiet hovered in Jamie’s chest.

John said nothing but stared back and watched, painfully, as the penny dropped. He could tell Jamie was angry by the way the Scots was slipping into his voice. It happened when he was tired, when he was too relaxed or worn out to make the extra effort of speaking with English words and enunciation or when he was angry enough that his concentration slipped. He could see Jamie fighting with his own emotions, trying not take his reaction out on John.

John felt bad, but Jamie’s disappointment was worse than anything he was feeling himself and yet he needed Jamie to understand. “A lot of gay couples, especially our age or older...its always been safer that way.”

Disbelief blindsinded Jamie. “For all the months I’ve spent building up the courage to go public wi ye and ye won’t even...” Jamie shook his head. “Good God, John, ye’ve never held back at the stables...”

When Jamie put it that way John could understand his confusion, but perhaps Jamie couldn’t see that hugging or kissing in front of your own employees at a business you owned had a slightly different dynamic to it than doing the same thing on a public street in the heart of London. “Its different at the stables.”

Jamie gritted his teeth and bit back his frustration. He was desperate to point out that it was John who had wanted to come and parade about in public in the first place but the thought of causing a scene was enough to make him bite back his own instinctive response and begrudgingly force down the irritation. He did not want their first major argument to be in public outside one of the most high profile restaurants in the capital. Looking around, he could already see heads turning at the slightly raised voices. A few people looking at them from inside the establishments nearby and passers by on the street glancing their way as they walked by.

“Jamie…?” John asked quietly.

Jamie took in a deep breath and forced himself into silence. At length he raised an arm for John to continue before him inside and waited a few steps before following John inside and out of the limelight.


End file.
